


bullet train

by GunshotBride, TheHiddenPassenger



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bodyguard AU, M/M, McGenji - Freeform, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:42:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9366497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GunshotBride/pseuds/GunshotBride, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHiddenPassenger/pseuds/TheHiddenPassenger
Summary: Hanzo, the new head of the Shimada assassin clan, is concerned for his brother's safety. He hires a bodyguard, an American, to keep Genji safe. McCree intends to do just that, and then some.





	1. sugar

**Author's Note:**

> A collaborative effort between myself and my sweet Genji. Enjoy.

_ Tall _ . That was the first word Genji Shimada remembered thinking when he was introduced to his new bodyguard. The man was very tall, over six feet tall at  _ least _ , and thick, barrel-chested, with legs that went on forever. Leaning on the ancestral  _ sakura _ tree in the center of the Shimada castle courtyard, munching an apple, looking for all the world like a juvenile delinquent, Genji betrayed not a bit of his status as right hand to the master of the Shimada- _ gumi _ . His brother did everything, anyway, handling the business, legitimate and shifty alike, which left him free to frolic--with discretion, of course. 

“Jesse McCree,” said the tall man with the pronounced drawl of the American Southwest. If it had not been obvious by his tan, freckles, scruff and hat that he was not native to Hanamura--or even Japan--the accent would’ve given him away immediately.

“ _ Nihongo o hanaseru ka _ ?” Genji asked through a mouthful of apple,  _ do you speak Japanese? _

“ _ Sukoshi _ ,” responded the cowboy without missing a beat,  _ a little _ . “Jus’ keep it slow, Sugar.”

Now, Genji had met all manner of people when traveling with his brother for business--real and illegitimate--and he’d never once laid eyes on someone quite like this Jess McCree character. He’d also never been called “Sugar.” Jesse's accent wasn't a complete loss, at least. For  _ this _ , Genji was grateful. 

“You will address my brother with respect!” Hanzo Shimada, scion of the Shimada clan, smartly-dressed in a deep blue, pressed suit, snapped from behind the towering westerner. McCree seemed to be cowed, a little, by this wolfish snarl and stepped aside for his approaching employer. 

“ _ Gomen’nasai _ ,” conceded the cowboy,  _ I'm sorry. _ He bowed to both in a relatively well-practiced way. It was clear that, for all his rough and tumble looks and the distinct twang of his pronunciation, he was at least somewhat familiar with their culture. 

“Relax,” Genji scolded his brother, in English, eager to show off his linguistic skills for an actual American. He rolled his eyes and tossing the apple belligerently aside, for the sole purpose of irritating Hanzo. It seemed to work, as the man’s sharp, hawk-like gaze followed the falling, half-eaten fruit to the ground where it landed with a wet  _ thud _ . 

“This man is to be your personal bodyguard,” Hanzo rumbled, holding back his indignation at his younger brother’s ridiculous behavior. Employee or not, Jesse McCree was a guest in his house, for now, and would be treated to only the best display of mannerisms. If Genji wouldn’t do it, Hanzo would have to pick up the slack. As usual. 

“I’m perfectly capable of guarding myself,  _ aniki _ ,” responded Genji with some irritation. Had he also not undergone the rigorous Shimada training regimen, every single day of his life since the age of ten? Was he not one of the premier  _ ninja _ in the world because of it? Well, that last one was difficult to gauge, as  _ ninja _ were in short supply and difficult to locate. The fact remained, he was not a child and perhaps had never been.

“I am aware,” conceded Hanzo, “but you are also my brother and as such...you are also a potential target for our enemies which, if you recall, are many.”

He saw no need to hide this from McCree, who had a reputation himself. Hanzo had not chosen just any old, incredibly tall cowboy facsimile off the streets, after all. Someone who would be tasked with guarding a member of  _ his _ family would have to have certain...skills. 

“Since I know you won’t take ‘no’ for an answer,” Genji knew to pick his battles with his dear brother and this was not one he was going to win. Besides, he wasn’t sure he  _ wanted _ to. The more he looked at the cowboy, the more he wanted to know. Surely Hanzo had predicted this, as the half-grin that flashed across his face betrayed. Genji cursed his brother, knowing him this well. “I guess I can’t refuse.”

“No,” affirmed Hanzo, “you cannot. Please show Mr. McCree around. I have business to which I must attend.”

And with that, Hanzo left them, his gait one of confidence and total control. Jesse couldn’t help watching the man leave, observing the slight shift in his movements which told the cowboy that Hanzo’s lower extremities were mechanical, much like his own left arm and eye… well-made, so as to be almost undetectable, except to those with an eye for such things.

“Follow me,” Genji snapped his fingers several times in succession to retrieve McCree’s attention. His brother cut an elegant figure and staring was to be expected, of course, but they had things to do. “And try to keep up… Sugar.”

“Sure thing. Lead the way,” responded McCree, his baritone ringing out slowly, passing from his lips to the younger Shimada brother’s ears in the way one tastes molasses. It clung to his eardrums, dripping slowly into his brain and filling him with an odd, syrupy feeling. Hanzo was stiff, chilly, calculating, analytical and dangerous, but he had an eye for talent. Genji’s eyes raked up and down McCree’s body once more before whirling to head off across the courtyard.  _ Lots  _ of talent.

First was the grand entrance hall. McCree made certain to remove his boots at the doorway and set them aside gingerly; his companion made note of this as he set his own aside, too. So the Westerner had manners. Intriguing. 

The whole space was meticulously crafted and kept up to resemble the splendor it had held in the Edo period, when the Shimada clan had held almost royal status, liege lords of a small duchy of sorts. Genji and Hanzo claimed descendants from a powerful  _ shogun  _ by the name of Shimada Hajime and paintings of his exploits and those of his other descendants densely adorned the walls. There was an ancestral shrine at the epicenter of the traditional trappings, kept neat and properly adorned with two white vases on either side, a couple of candles and of course, a mirror at the center. This was all high above their heads, at least seven feet up, as was appropriate. 

“Our  _ kamidana _ ,” Genji commented offhandedly, gesturing toward the shrine. Jesse noted the structure of it and made a mental note to remember to bring an offering of  _ saké  _ to venerate it properly. It was best to endear himself to the family as quickly as possible; he knew his job well. 

“ _ Shinto _ , huh?” McCree commented, noting the styling of the altar and lack of humanoid statue. That, combined with the presence of a mirror told him at least a little about the traditional beliefs of the Shimada clan. Genji nodded. 

“Good eye, for a Westerner,” he complimented. There was much about this cowboy he did not yet know. Making a game of information gathering was a specialty of Genji’s. He’d been trained almost since birth by his ruthless, efficient father to take every factor of every encounter with anyone and anything into account, file it away, and be able to recall it at any moment. He could still hear his late father’s voice, repeating the mantra even now.  _ Every piece of information is useful,  _ his father’s voice _ You can learn from even the fools of this world, if you care to look. Open your eyes and ears and close your mouth and you will learn a great secret about every man.  _

He would also have advised his sons use that information against the “target,” but to Genji, life was merely one great game, dangerous, but winnable. Sojiro’s death--and their mother Shizuka’s soon after--had sobered him up considerably, but he was still downright playful compared to Hanzo. 

Genji continued his ten cent tour of the places in Hanamura castle he didn’t care for… the various shrines, sacred trees, stone gardens, those sorts of things. They just didn’t interest them, though the cowboy had commented that the latter was “beautiful” and that they “didn’t have anything like this back home.” Other than that, McCree remained relatively quiet, taking it all in.

“Since you’re my bodyguard, you’ll have a room within my apartments,” said Genji finally, leading the way to a much more updated area of the complex. These were the offices and living quarters of the family members who were also employed by the mega-conglomerate over which the Shimada clan presided. Obviously, Jesse was more than aware of their  _ other _ business, but it wasn't his place as a bodyguard to ask those things. For now, it didn’t matter. He was a guest and Genji was showing him the window dressings. They’d get to the root cellar--metaphorically-speaking--eventually. 

“Y’all live at the top?” McCree asked, gesturing toward gold-bordered elevator doors. There was another set nearby, not nearly as ornate as these. The former were, in addition to looking a worthy portal for the passage of kings, guarded on either side by a couple of imposing, suited men. 

“If you can call that bird’s nest ‘living’,” Genji snorted with some disdain. When McCree’s brow rose, he shrugged. “It’s all well and good to live above everyone in an ivory tower, but I’d rather be in the middle of what goes on below…”

That being said, they were going up said ivory tower so Genji could show his new bodyguard to his rooms. The guards moved aside for Shimada- _ sama _ and his guest, eyeing the cowboy’s flannel with measured distaste. Jesse supposed he could have worn a suit, but that didn’t really fit his rough and rowdy aesthetic, now did it? Besides, Reyes told him the younger Shimada brother really liked Western culture--and what was more western than a damned cowboy?

As the elevator began to move, drawing them inexorably upward, Jesse crossed his arms over a broad chest and eyed Genji pointedly. He wanted the young man to know he wasn’t afraid to take a gander at him, the way his new charge had done to  _ him _ earlier. 

“Why do you stare so?” Genji questioned, a hint of mischief in his tone. He was toying with the cowboy, surely, leaning languidly against the wall, one hip jutting out just a little, legs crossed at the ankles.    
“Same reason you did, I reckon,” responded Jesse with ease. He sucked his lower lip between pearly teeth for just a moment, giving Genji the once-over one more time before taking a quick gander around the elevator compartment. The ceiling had an emergency door, which was good and he wagered that somewhere under this faux hardwood flooring there would be another. His prosthetic was strong enough to force the main doors if need be. Good. All escape routes accounted for. He’d have to go back through Shimada castle on his own later and do the same for the rest of the complex. 

“You think you know me, cowboy?” Genji bristled with a challenge. This bodyguard of his was already starting off too cocky, but knocking a man of that size down a peg without Hanzo’s help would be a chore and the younger Shimada was fundamentally lazy. Anyway, if he was being honest with himself, this back-and-forth was proving to be very entertaining. 

“I know your  _ kind _ ,” purred the Westerner, his accent thick and sweet like honey, but a little bit sharp around the edges, liable to cut a man if he moved too quickly. He was dangerous; Hanzo would not have hired him if this was not the case. Genji liked dangerous. 

“Enlighten me,” the young  _ yakuza _ heir took the bait. McCree grinned out one side of his mouth, through lips clearly accustomed to holding a cigar or some other filthy thing. He relaxed his posture even more, hooking his thumbs into his pockets and watching Genji from under the brim of his hat, as if taking stock of all possible responses and choosing the one most likely to slide under the younger man’s skin. 

“Rich, powerful… bored and  _ aching _ to cause trouble,” McCree put extra, gravelly emphasis on the word “aching” just to see what he could stir up. A flash of crimson rose to Genji’s ears and he cleared his throat. 

The cowboy had hit the nail on the head, of course. Genji knew it to be true, but sort of hated how easily it was discerned by a complete stranger. Hanzo was difficult to read, though it was clear he was rich and powerful. Everything else about him was a mystery. Genji had always worn his emotions on his sleeves, a fact which irritated them both to no end. He could forgive himself at least a little, for it was only natural that a man, selling his services as a bodyguard to  _ yakuza _ , would know how to read people. But why, oh why did he have to sound like  _ that _ ? Genji made a mental note to give his brother hell later on--choosing a man like  _ this _ ? It was cruel. It was calculating. It was purposeful. It was Hanzo.

“I’ve just shown you my home… of course I am rich and powerful, but bored?” He _ was _ curious about that last one and eager to steer conversation away from the word “aching,” which had caused an uncomfortable tightness between his thighs. McCree was watching his eyes, however, not his groin, thank heavens. Once more, the cowboy seemed to be flipping through a catalogue of responses before actually offering one. 

“You called this place a bird’s nest,” said McCree as the doors opened, revealing a frankly resplendent foyer. “Only someone who had so much could afford to scorn it.”

He stepped past Genji into the front hallway, observing the white walls, golden fixtures, red accents, traditional paintings and well-kept  _ bonsai _ meticulously arranged about the place. He couldn’t help but stare. Through the wonderment, he did manage to ascertain that--from this angle, at least--the elevator was the only viable entrance.

The wide-eyed ogling, along with the cowboy's response, told Genji this was not a man who came from money, nor had he likely ever had too much. Desperation did strange things to a fellow, which made the  _ ninja _ more curious than ever to know about his past. 

“Hanzo hired you to curb my boredom,” assessed Genji aloud, “or at least stop it becoming destructive, am I right?”

“I wasn’t given specifics like  _ that _ ,” answered McCree, turning to face Genji once more. The man only came up to his collar bones, so he ended up looking down when the green-haired fellow approached him. “Jus’ keep an eye on ya.”

Genji didn’t look like he was buying it, but right now, Jesse was telling the absolute, honest-to-god truth. Hanzo knew of his background in the Deadlock gang, how he took over and then was apprehended by Overwatch, assumed a prison sentence and then emerged a changed man--sort of. Bodyguard work was lucrative, if one could get it; there was no reason to believe any kind of ulterior motives behind Jesse seeking employment with  _ yakuza _ . 

“Well follow me,  _ Jesse _ , and you can keep  _ two _ eyes on me,” purred Genji, suddenly flitting away from the American, toward a doorway which led up a short flight of stairs. The young Shimada decided early on that he would call his bodyguard by his first name, to spite his uptight brother and because it was a good bit easier to pronounce than his last name. Evidently there was even  _ more _ elevation to this place than first anticipated. Genji’s rear-end was tightly encapsulated in his pants and the cowboy was afforded an excellent look on the way up.  _ Not bad _ , he mused to himself,  _ this gig ain’t so hard… yet. _

Suddenly, he found himself cut off from his own inner monologue by yet another fantastic sight. If McCree hadn’t been winded by Genji’s fluttering and flirting--or whatever it was--the view at the top of those stairs did the trick. 

Clearly, it was a bedroom. That was obvious, made so by the four poster bed and various pillows and blankets thereupon, all made up and perfect for use. Everything was in pristine condition; clearly, their help was of the utmost skill. The floor was a bare, modern, light-colored hardwood. In place of  _ tatami _ , an area rug adorned the center, deep red and patterned gracefully, it spoke of great expense and taste. McCree sensed that Genji did not choose this particular decoration.Upon one wall was a great painting, a pair of entwined dragons, in a sort of  _ ukiyo-e _ style, another was covered with posters of western bands, television shows, clippings from magazines--rather like the room of a teenage boy. McCree took note, unsurprised to see some borderline ancient “spaghetti western” film posters. The final wall was really just a massive window, looking out over the city.

The view reached all the way to the crashing blue of the Pacific and McCree’s breath was all but stolen from him. He found himself drawn to it. On the way across the room, he  _ did  _ make note of a small, framed photograph at the side of Genji’s massive bed, depicting a rather stern-looking couple and two young boys. Evidently, Hanzo had never learned to smile. Jesse huffed with amusement, wondering what a smile would even look like on the man’s severe face. He was all angles and sobriety. Genji was a world away from his brother on that front, at least. 

“Everyone always goes to the window first,” said Genji, chuckling like he’d seen it all before. Given what Hanzo had told McCree--and even more, what he had omitted--the cowboy was just about sure Genji  _ had _ seen this all before, many, many times with many, many partners. 

“How d’ya get ‘em past security?” Jesse rumbled, turning slowly to face his charge, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him. The red that had settled itself on young flesh had returned and Genji actually broke eye contact, having enough shame to clear his throat behind a fist and shrug, mumbling a non-answer. Perfect. McCree had this young man right where he needed him to be, infatuated but unable to act or react properly due, ironically, to that infatuation. Here was a man accustomed to playing with his prey, toying with the young and beautiful creatures of the night, using them to whatever extent he chose and leaving them without another thought. Yet he was tongue-tied by a simple, American outlaw.  _ Reyes was right, this job was  _ made _ for me _ . 

Genji recovered quickly, replacing his mask with frightening efficiency. Still, it had come down, hard, and after only knowing the cowboy for an hour or so. Jesse wondered what else would come off with a few more days, or even weeks. He was very much looking forward to that, especially with the way Genji seemed to sink into the duvet, pulling long fingers through wild, green hair, running his tongue over chapped lips, looking for all the world like someone who had done no wrong. Jesse knew better. He knew the sparkle of mischief in those eyes. 

“The rest of the tour…” Genji trailed off, waving his hand to indicate the nothingness of middle distance between him and his ability to care about anything other than enjoying his new bodyguard. Tilting his body back on the bed, he balanced on his elbows and watched McCree, studying him for signs of interest. And they were there. Oh, they were there, indeed. 

Jesse decided to make his charge wait. He grinned, wide and cheeky, gesturing toward the door. “Time t’eat?” 

Genji clicked his tongue with irritation, but recognized the need for hospitality. Besides, McCree would be no good to him if he shriveled up to nothingness. Hanzo would be furious, as well. Genji decided to show Jesse around Hanamura on his stomach. That was, he found, the best way to woo a man. Anyway, the big man could probably pack away quite a bit of food. One did not reach such a size by dining on morsels. 

“I know an excellent  _ ramen _ shop just a few blocks away from the castle,” bubbled Genji, suddenly delighted once more, all annoyance fading from his youthful countenance. He slid off the bed and drew himself up, passing Jesse like a whirlwind. McCree wondered whence all that energy came and where it could possibly have gone, bleeding off like a radioactive cell in a nuclear power plant. The size and stability of the bed informed him of at least  _ one _ place it all went.  _ Easy there, _ he chided himself. 

“Lead the way,” Jesse murmured with approval, already following his charge. This assignment was shaping up to be his favorite ever, though in the cowboy’s recollection, any assignment one walked away with limbs intact was a good one and that bit remained to be seen. 

As they descended, Jesse could not help but feel a bit of melancholy at leaving the bright space, but his rooms would very likely be nearby, so he wouldn’t have to travel far when Genji inevitably summoned him. In fact, on their way into the elevator, they met a couple of Shimada guards toting Jesse’s luggage. They crossed the grand foyer to a doorway Jesse had not noticed earlier.  _ Careless _ , he snipped at himself,  _ gotta keep my eyes peeled. Genji ain’t goin’ anywhere _ . 

Following McCree’s gaze, in fact, Genji commented, almost offhandedly, “Oh yes, your rooms are beneath mine,” as if such a thing was hardly important. Priority one was, at this point, feeding his new, massive bodyguard. Genji entered the elevator first and held the door for McCree, who brushed him on the way by, feeling a tingle of wild electricity shoot up his spine as he did so. The cowboy might have felt it too, but betrayed nothing. Now was not the time for games, but observation and Jesse couldn’t help observing how Genji’s eyes raked over his body. 

“Yer starin’ again, Sugar,” McCree purred. Well, maybe there was time for some games, and just a little flirting. After all, who said a job couldn’t be fun? 

“We’re trapped in this elevator,” Genji reminded him, blowing green bangs out of his face, “looking anywhere else would be… boring.”

There it was, a slight tell, an admission that McCree’s earlier assessment had been on the money. Of course, he knew it was, but hearing it from Genji’s lips made it so much sweeter. This was a good gig for the cowboy. Reyes knew him very well, indeed. 

The downward motion of the lift was smooth, but ever-present as they made their way down the massive height of the tower, down and down, below the executive suites and offices, to the ground floor. Jesse’s spurs whispered as he stepped over the golden threshold and immediately scanned the area before moving his bulk aside for Genji. The young Shimada was hardly complaining about a view which so thoroughly held his interest. 

“We are in my home,” he reminded McCree on his way past the man, patting his shoulder. “We are always safe here.”

“Never hurts t’be prepared,” Jesse justified, turning palms skyward and shrugging, before trailing after his new charge, wondering just how difficult it was going to be to keep an eye on the man. Hanzo had expressed some worry that the job would be too much for one person, but one look at Jesse seemed to have silenced his fears. If the man’s  résumé  hadn’t impressed him, clearly his looks had filled in whatever remaining doubt the Shimada clan scion still harbored. 

Genji chuckled behind his hand, his mind tilting ever downward and imagining how much preparation he might need for a liaison he was already planning in his wicked head. A Cheshire smile spread across his handsome features, but as McCree was behind him, he was not privy to this and had to make due reading Genji’s body language. The younger man seemed pleased, at the very least and for now, that was good enough. 

“You’ll love this place,” Genji promised, picking up the chatter as soon as they were beyond the threshold of Shimada castle.  _ Another tell, _ Jesse thought, filing it away,  _ he feels more comfortable outside of his home. Could it be Hanzo?  _

“Got me quiverin’ with excitement,” the cowboy purred in response, intentionally laying the charm on, thick as he could. It was best to do these honeypot missions with efficiency, making the intended target fall hard and fast, so quickly that even they could not remember precisely when, how, or why they fell. To that end, Genji felt his heart flutter as the cowboy spoke, plucking every string within him, every deep, heated desire he’d ever had and then some. Where in the hell had Hanzo found this guy and where could he get more? 

“Just stick with me,” said Genji with amusement. “I’ll show you the way to  _ enjoy _ Hanamura.”

“I intend to, Sugar.”


	2. freckles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji shows his new bodyguard around and Hanzo has some news...

Genji led the way to his absolute favorite ramen shop, _Rikimaru_ , ducking under the curtains marking its entrance and greeting the owner like an old friend. The man was elderly, probably in his seventies, all smiles and wrinkles. McCree greeted the old fellow with purposefully stilted Japanese. The man was pleased, of course, maybe even a little impressed and introduced himself as Akemi Ichigo.

“Jesse McCree,” said McCree, for what felt like the millionth time that day.

“Ah,” responded the ancient fellow, “friend of Genji?”

His English was about as good as Jesse’s faked Japanese. Oh how the cowboy wished he could converse fluently, but that would blow his cover entirely. He _did_ appreciate the old fellow’s effort, meeting him on his perceived level.

“ _Hai_ ,” answered McCree, “from outta town.”

“ _Gaijin_ … always welcome in my shop.”

McCree tipped his hat amiable and the shop owner grinned again, going about his business, already preparing Genji’s meal. Evidently, the young man ate here often enough that his order was identical, every time. McCree made note of the old man’s friendly disposition toward Genji and wondered if the Shimada- _gumi_ extended any protection to him. There was no way to ask without coming off as indelicate and, once again, potentially blowing his cover to smithereens, so Jesse stowed it and settled in to enjoy the _ramen_.

“I’ll order for you, cowboy,” Genji purred, leaning over the counter and gesturing the elderly owner over to him. Conspiratorially, the green-haired man looked about, as if McCree wasn’t sitting right next to him. He whispered something into Mr. Akemi’s ear. The old man nodded and seemed pleased.

“ _Sore wa yoi sentakudesu_ ,” he murmured. _That is a good choice._

More than a little amused by this display, Jesse leaned on the counter, half-cocked grin in place like a mask, sure to distract the younger Shimada brother. All he had to do was worm his way into Genji’s good graces and stay there, plant himself in the center of the fastest-growing _yakuza_ clan in Japan and report back on occasion. Cakewalk.

“Don’t spring any s’prises on me, Sugar,” McCree begged, leaning on one elbow, body tilted toward Genji at a pleasing angle. Genji was looking, oh was he ever looking, but Jesse read the way he pretended not to, making note to continue pushing the oozing charm. Clearly, that was going to be his ticket in. How _far_ in was anyone’s guess, but the cowboy had great capacity for smarmy one-liners and thick-as-molasses sensuality.

“Only good things, I promise,” Genji purred, appreciating the incline of the cowboy’s torso and the spread of his thighs--and the bulge between them. He swallowed, throat suddenly dry and a little constricted, perhaps simulating what it might be like to deepthroat whatever McCree was hiding in his trousers. Recovering himself quickly, the young Shimada continued. “I don’t want to frighten you off on the first day, right? If nothing else, I know how to entertain a guest.”

Somehow, the way Genji said the word “entertain” planted a small, hot ember right in the pit of his gut. That was dangerous, but only if misused. A little genuine desire went a long way. There was nothing wrong with looking--maybe even touching, if permission was given. Anyway, Genji was absolutely McCree’s type: short, slim, brazen, supple--or he looked that way, anywho. _Take it easy_ , purred the cowboy, mentally, permitting himself the same liberty of ogling as Genji was. Turnabout. Fair play.

“Something interest you, _cowboy_?” Of course he’d caught McCree staring; it had not been subtle. Jesse allowed himself another long look, scanning slowly up the short man’s body and meeting his eyes.

“Oh, absolutely,” he rumbled, the words coming out as if they’d been rehearsed. He was skilled at this game, this roulette of flirting and sensuality. It was important to lay the heavy looks on thick and then back down, press forth and dial it back, much like intercourse. The play of tension and release was essential.

“Go on,” Genji purred, leaning his torso forward and laying a hand on the cowboy’s thigh, squeezing lightly to tease him. This having-a-bodyguard thing couldn’t be all bad, especially with a man like Jesse McCree. Genji studied the width of his shoulders and the cut of his jawline under all that scruff and very much liked what he saw.

“I look at you, Mister Shimada--heh--an’ I see a kid with too much time an’ money who’s causin’ his busy, no-fun brother some trouble. That about sum it up?” Jesse decided to go for the jugular with this one, hinting that he knew perhaps a little of why he’d been hired, though maybe not the deeper details.

“I didn’t think I was causing Hanzo _that_ much trouble.” Genji raised a brow, his other elbow laying itself on the counter and laying his chin in his hand. “I thought I was out of his hair being out all the time.”

“When you ain’t home, you ain’t safe,” McCree observed. “I’ve been in the business long enough to know that a target’s easiest to reach when he’s payin’ no mind, partyin’ an’ focused on anything other than his own safety.”

That last point was to drive home the fact that McCree already knew, or had guessed at Genji’s destructive habits. Hanzo hiring him had been an attempt to curb them, especially in the wake of their father’s passing. All eyes in the underworld were upon the renowned Shimada assassin clan.

 _This_ talk again. It took Genji every fiber of his being to not roll his eyes, and to simply look towards their food being prepared. He had heard it all before from his brother. He didn’t need it from his new bodyguard, too.

As usual, McCree hit the nail on the head. He was good at this game and content, for now, to watch their food as well, mimicking Genji’s rapt attention. It was a bit pouty, that look, but his forced attention elsewhere allowed Jesse to study the man’s profile. He really _was_ beautiful. This job wasn’t going to be bad at all.

Presently, lunch was served and their bowls were set in front of them. Mr. Akemi grinned at the young men and bade them eat their fill, informing Genji that the meals were on him. McCree thanked the man in broken Japanese and turned toward his new companion.

Now that they had their food, Genji wondered just how familiar _Jesse_ was with their culture. He watched the cowboy fiddle with his chopsticks and then hold them out toward him with a pleading look on his face.

“Never _did_ manage with these things,” he admitted. That much was not an act. If it could not be eaten with a spoon or fork, it did not need eating. That was the motto in Jesse's household. _And if I struggle, he’ll open up to me a li’l easier--c’mon, partner, take pity on th’ pathetic foreigner._

Genji was surprised to see the American give up so easily, to _chopsticks_ of all things. He couldn’t help but laugh at the look on Jesse’s face as he examined the chopsticks with the curiosity and vigor of a scientist--and the helplessness of a toddler.

“ _Watashi wa anata ga ōku o kowashita to sōzō suru koto ga dekimasu._ ” _I can imagine you broke a lot._ The _ninja_ said with a big grin on his face. He reached out and took the sticks from McCree. Their fingers brushed momentarily as the conjoined, wooden monstrosities were extracted from tawny, calloused hands. Gingerly, keeping sharp eye-contact with Jesse, Genji pulled them apart and handed them back in one fluid motion. This time, his fingers lingered. He then repeated the action for his own and put his hands together. “ _Itadakimasu!_ ”

How far to go, though? He couldn’t possibly _show_ his new bodyguard how to use them, could he? That would be too intimate. He demonstrated how to hold the things in his right hand, indicating McCree should try as well. The cowboy did, but with little success. It became apparent he would have to get a little more...physical. Genji leaned forward once more, boldly placing a hand on the cowboy’s knee.

“Let me,” he offered, laying a hand atop Jesse’s struggling grip. What could have been the ghost of a flush skittered across McCree’s--were those freckles? The young Shimada stopped mid-thought, studying the man’s skin. Against his will, Jesse also found himself staring. This was a mission; it was damn important, but he just couldn’t seem to stay in control when his charge was leaning in like this. _Too early to be losin’ it,_ he scolded himself. _That’s jus’ unprofessional._

“Please,” the word leaked past McCree’s guarded tongue without his consent, though thankfully, it was not out of context in this situation. Hopefully, Genji would take it as an invitation to reposition his hand. Then he could take that knowledge back to base and educate the indomitable, chopstick-handicapped, Jack Morrison.

Genji did, indeed take the invite. His dexterous fingers went to work, moving Jesse’s this way and that. He mumbled explanations as he went, making certain McCree understood why each finger and each leverage point was positioned the way it was and what it would do to allow the grabbing of noodles. Mr. Akemi had been watching the entire exchange, but when the two began staring, he wisely went about his business.

“There,” declared the young _ninja_ with some pride, sitting back and patting his palms together. “Now you try.”

Cupping his chin once again and resting his elbow on the counter, half-lidded eyes watched Jesse, waiting patiently for the other man’s attempt. It was sure to be slopping and almost ineffective, but by god he’d tried. Anyway, something about McCree--this man he’d just met for pity’s sake--helpless and completely at his mercy pressed more than a few buttons within the young man.

Jesse levered the chopsticks open once or twice, testing his prowess with them. McCree had been, before the mission that had taken his arm, a natural lefty, so his fumblings could be excused. That being said, he was also the kind of man who did not like to be deficient in any aspect, least of all his hammer hand. His prosthetic was powerful and quick and could do many things, but gripping utensils was not chief among them. He’d mastered fork, spoon and knife, the essentials, but gripping small, wooden sticks was best left to the flesh hand. In this way, he excused his inadequacy.

“How’sis, Sug’?” He asked, eyes pleading for approval.

“ _Kawaii ne…_ ” _How cute._ Genji couldn't help but mutter under his breath, grinning wide at the sight of the cowboy and how he managed to work those cursed wooden things. “You are doing great.”

Nodding enthusiastically, Genji then sat himself up once more. Hopefully that would be enough tutoring and _hopefully_ Jesse would be able to work his own chopsticks now, because this was the longest he’d ever been distracted from digging into one of Mr. Akemi’s meals, _ever_. It took an astronomical amount of willpower and patience not to start simply feeding the pathetic fellow, but that would have been too forward--as if touching his knee and grabbing his hands had not been.

For his part, McCree was managing, using the techniques Genji had taught him to lever the chopsticks open and grasp bunches of noodles. They slipped away from him several times before he managed to get a few in his mouth. These he slurped gratefully and offered a thumbs-up. They were delectable, fit for a king. Or perhaps he was just hungry from his journey.

When he received the thumbs up from the cowboy, Genji was satisfied the man had learned to navigate chopsticks sufficiently. Not only could he now enjoy his meal, but he could also watch _Jesse_ eat too, which was so far turning out to be fun. How _cute_. He had a feeling the cowboy would be in good spirits once fed, not that he'd been ungracious before.

“This is some dang good food,” Jesse gushed appreciatively. The heat of the noodles wafted up and warmed his chin as he leaned over the dish and shoveled ramen into his expansive mouth.

“Mr. Akemi makes the best ramen in Japan.” Genji said confidently, through a mouthful of noodles. “I eat here all the time.”

He was sure the old man knew him better than his own brother did. Akemi had lent an ear many times when Hanzo had been too busy running the family business. Genji was pleased beyond measure that his bodyguard was also enjoying this place, though he controlled the urge to express it too openly. He still had to figure out what this cowboy was all about.

“Well I ain't sampled much,” responded McCree between mouthfuls, “but at this point, I'm inclined to agree. Ah… _Arigatoo, Akemi-san._ ”

Luckily now that the bodyguard agreed with him on just how great Mr. Akemi’s establishment was, he wouldn’t have to be embarrassed about just how frequently he visited, seeing as McCree would be stuck to him like glue. Unless of course he could shake him off somehow, but why would he even _want_ to? Head to toe, Jesse McCree was the whole package, everything Genji envisioned in the perfect boy toy. He’d have to thank Hanzo--but in an aggressive, non-thanking way, because he was determined to remain annoyed that he’d have to be followed everywhere.

“Do you have any places you eat at frequently where you come from?” Genji asked before once again stuffing his face with more noodles. McCree slurped a mouthful, nodded thoughtfully and tilted his gaze toward the ceiling.

“Down the road from… my old place,” he said, “there’s a little _cantina_ … good booze, good _tacos_...great service.”

He was musing like an old man, which was especially comical as he’d yet to reach thirty. If one had asked Jesse McCree ten years previous if he thought he’d reach 20, he’d have laughed in everyone’s face and lit a rebellious cigarette. _Thank god I dropped those,_ he thought, reflecting on how he had learned to appreciate a good, hand-rolled cigar.

Genji would have loved to suggest that McCree bring him some time, but he knew all too well that Hanzo would never allow such a thing. They may have been rich and powerful, but Hanamura was Genji’s home, his prison… his tomb. Hanzo went where business dragged him and never without heavy guard. The younger Shimada _would_ have been envious, if not for the _business_ part.

“You’d like it,” Jesse continued, between mouthfuls of delicious fare. The bowl was large, fortunately and the cowboy would likely be full when he was finished, but he sure could pack it away. “Not t’say that I don’ like _this_ , Sugar--’cause I really do. Best I’ve eaten since I took off yesterday.”

Air travel was not McCree’s favorite way of getting around. It felt forced, or fake. He couldn’t take in the scenery from thirty thousand something feet. The cowboy didn’t like missing all that humanity had to offer. The scenic views from the back of a convertible were more to his tastes, depending on the company.

“I will have to go there sometime,” Genji sighed wistfully, grasping at anything that would get him out of Hanamura for a while; he was sure such a thing would do him wonders. Perhaps now that Hanzo had gone to such an extent as to buy him a bodyguard, he would have a little more freedom. _Unlikely._

“I’d be more than happy t’show ya around,” McCree rumbled, finishing his bowl momentarily and setting it on the counter with a satisfied clunk. Leaning back, the cowboy laid a prosthetic hand on his stomach, patting himself appreciatively.

Genji finished shortly after Jesse, setting his empty bowl down and grinning. Oh, did he love the food here.

“Let’s see, where else in Hanamura could I show you..?” The _ninja_ muttered, looking up to the ceiling in his thoughts. Jesse kept a close eye on his posture, the arch of his back, the sharp line of his jaw and the dip where it met his throat. For some reason, the cowboy was set upon by the sudden urge to taste that particular spot.

“I read somethin’ about an arcade on the brochure I got at y'all’s airport,” he suggested, using the sound of his own voice to shake the unbidden desire.

“The arcade? You’re not one I would have taken for a gamer,” Genji responded skeptically, turning his gaze toward his bodyguard, reading him for signs of a bluff. “But sure, it’s not far from here.”

McCree raised both hands in mock surrender, “I aint, but if it’s part o’ town--an’ it’s a part _you_ like, I gotta see it.”

His reasoning was three-fold. For starters, it would be an excellent opportunity to get the lay of the land, something Reyes always advised, no matter a mission’s purpose or location. _Get lax and you’ll get dead. Get it?_ Jesse could always hear the man’s stern, no-nonsense tone when he was out on his own, because when he wasn’t, his commander was barking in his ear. Secondly, it would allow him to get the lay of _Genji’s_ land, metaphorically speaking--though at this point, McCree was about 99% certain he was going to get laid in that direction at some time during his stay here. The thought didn’t bother him, of course; this was his mission, so he brushed it off and focused on his charge. Last of all, showing interest in his secondary target’s amusements showed interest in _him_. He needed to be softened up before he started divulging any secrets, if secrets he had.

Technically speaking, Hanzo Shimada was the primary target, but the man was exceedingly cold, cultured and traditional. Jesse hadn’t been able to get a read on him in the short time they had contact. Perhaps that had been on purpose, in which case the cowboy would have to play it extra close to the vest near the _oyabun_ of the Shimada clan.

“Right then, to the arcade,” Genji concluded, besides, it would be fun to whoop his bodyguard at some games. Thanking Mr. Akemi for the meal, Genji got up from his seat and waited for the cowboy to follow. McCree reached across the countertop and shook the man’s hand, thanking him once more for the meal. As they departed, he noted the location of the shop and its proximity to Shimada castle. _He might like runnin’, but he don’t run far_.

Once they left the shop, Genji let the cowboy gaze at whatever he thought his time was better spent looking at as they ambled along. He _almost_ felt like booking it down the street to see just how good at his job this Jesse McCree fellow really was, but the man wanted to see the arcade.

“Try to keep up!” Genji called back to McCree. The jetlagged cowboy stifled a yawn and instead settled for rolling his head on wide shoulders.

“Easy, partner,” he scolded. “It’s been a long day… why don’t we take it slow?”

Every little bit of innuendo and flirting counted when one was making first impressions. Jesse had a feeling this would be his most involved mission yet and the last thing he wanted to do was screw up right out the gate. _No,_ he thought. _I’ve got this._ He straightened a little and tossed his hands up behind his head, enjoying the sunlight and breathing deep the air of the beautiful town.

“How do you expect to keep up with a _ninja_ going at such a pace?” Gesturing with an arm outstretched to his bodyguard, Genji stopped in his tracks and crossed his arms, waiting impatiently for his companion to catch up. He _supposed_ he could slow down, but he wouldn’t _like_ it.

“Wait… yer a _ninja_ ? Like… a real one?” Jesse tuned his voice to the proper level of disbelief and amazement, though he knew all about the Shimada training regimen and Genji’s spartan upbringing. It was best if he made damn sure _Genji_ didn’t know this, however. The ruse continued.

“I would not be bragging if I were a _fake ninja_ , would I? We have a word for those over here, and it is _otaku._ ” Once Jesse caught up he continued walking, considerably slower now after McCree asked for it.

“Savage,” Jesse purred. “Tell me more…”

He could see Genji begin to puff up, figuratively. The man was preening like a peacock, showing off for him, easy as you please. Sometimes, these sorts of things were easier than others and Jesse had a feeling Genji wanted--no, _needed_ someone to whom he could show off properly.

“Well…” Genji started, thinking about how he should word this. “Hanzo and I had the same training when we were young boys, every day since I was five… or was it seven? I was very young, in either case. Hanzo will not let me go a day without working out in the morning… It is one of the few things we still do together.”

Well, they worked out together whenever his brother had _time_ , anyway. _Genji_ luckily had never forgotten his daily routine, had always been able to make space for it. “The training was always tough, but it was well worth the pain. It’s so much fun!” Stretching his arms up, the _ninja_ chuckled. “Are you a morning person?”

“Crack o’ dawn, Sugar… up with the crowin’ of th’ cock,” responded McCree. It wasn’t a lie. He’d been up with the sun since childhood, unable to resist the call and promise of a new day. “Why? You invitin’ me t’work out with ya?”

Of course, wherever Genji went, McCree would have to be. It was his job, after all. He was more than happy to accompany the man to a place where he’d be grunting, sweating and straining. The picture in his head was deliciously sensual, probably over-dramatic, and most likely far too clean--but it made him smile nevertheless.

“If you are to be stuck to me the entire time you work for me, you might as well,” chirped Genji _._  It only made sense to the _ninja._  Besides, that would mean he would get to see the cowboy working up a sweat. With that pleasant thought, Genji entered the sliding door of the arcade, McCree in tow.

Upon entry, they were surrounded by the blasting music of video games and a crowd consisting _mostly_ of teenagers. The noise was nearly deafening, of both voices and music. Some of the games were clearly designed to mimic a retro style, polygonal, or pixelated. Others were rendered with three-dimensional holograms, hovering about various tables.

“Show me yer fav’rite game,” requested the cowboy, drawing an arm about Genji’s shoulders, testing the water. They’d done some precarious flirting in the stone garden at Shimada castle and at the ramen shop; now was his chance to see how much that testing of the waters had paid off.

“My favorite…” Genji sighed, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and looking about the arcade. “That is a good question, I have high scores on all of these machines, but I think my _favorite_ would be on the second floor.” Gesturing above them, Genji then reciprocated Jesse’s action by wrapping his arm around the cowboy, leading with a jaunty step.

 _Good,_ McCree thought, _he’s physically comfortable with me already._ Of course, he could have been like that with everyone, but at the very least, the cowboy was getting a small measure of Genji’s relative strength. There was a lot you could tell about a man by the way he put his arm around you, how he held himself while he walked with you and where he put his hand. Everything was adding up and Jesse filed it all away in his deceptively sharp mind.

“How many floors’s this place got?” McCree asked aloud, shouting over the din and laying a hand atop his hat to tilt his head upward and visually explore the height of the place. It was a multi-level complex and every single railing was packed, shoulder-to-shoulder, with young people.

“Five.” Going up the only flight of stairs, Genji led the way to the second floor. He released his bodyguard to shoulder his way past a small number of people. “I think _you_ will get a kick out of _this_ game, cowboy.”

From there it wasn’t much longer before the pair found themselves in front of the big arcade machine, a two-player game with a very rustic, spaghetti western look to it. On the dash where there _would_ be buttons on any other machine, lay a visor and a mock pistol.

“You gotta be kiddin’ me,” McCree exclaimed gleefully. “I ain’t seen one o’ these since I was jus’ a tadpole.”

The game was familiar to him like the back of his hand and had been part of what inspired his current motif. Being from the American southwest also helped, but the game--”Six Gun Shooter”--was his original inspiration. He’d heard rumors a television series was being planned as well, but Jesse knew better than to hold his breath when big studios were involved. It was about profit for them and if the nostalgia didn’t generate enough, the project would be dropped.

“Play a round with me,” Genji insisted. He shoved his hands into tight pockets to pull out a couple of arcade coins he had saved up--not that he _needed_ to save, but it was the principle of the thing. “I hold the high score for this game, but let’s see if you live up to your looks, I assume you know how it works?”

“Well, shoot,” Jesse drawled, “o’course I do, Sugar.”

He wasn’t about to tell Genji that he held the high score at the local arcade back in Santa Fe--and in every one in the surrounding area as well. When Deadlock traveled, Jesse loved to leave his mark. He was confident his scores had yet to be topped.

Genji approached the machine and stuck a coin in the player one and two slots. He beckoned his bodyguard into the play area in front of the rig, plenty of room for the two of them to whip around as they played. The _ninja_ picked up the player one visor and placed the thing on his face, grabbing the pistol shortly after and awaiting his player two. Jesse watched how Genji handled the firearm. It was an expert hold, though not of someone who was accustomed to handling an actual gun, but this toy, in particular. _Cute_ , he thought to himself, _the rich boy likes to play._

“It’ll be my pleasure,” he said, “to top whatever score you got on here.”

Jesse lifted the visor to his face and slid it on, immersing himself in the hot, dusty world of the American west, circa 1800-something. The gun felt too light in his hand, but he would adjust. Half of his Blackwatch training had been handling any firearm he was given, even toys.

“Then it sounds like we will enjoy a nice long day of gaming, eh cowboy?” Genji taunted, using the gun in hand to point and shoot out a few on-screen options to get their game started. “You have to beat _thirteen hundred_.”

He was almost embarrassed to admit his highscore, afraid it would give away just how much he played this particular game, given how everyone else on the leaderboard had about _five hundred_ points or so. But it would be fun to see his bodyguard try to beat it.

Thirteen hundred was an admittedly high score, even for McCree, but he had every confidence he could top it. The cowboy couldn’t hold back; Genji would know if he did, but he _was_ debating internally whether or not to throw the match, or risk bruising an ego he’d not quite analyzed.

“Get us started then, Sugar; I got all the time in the world.”

With another pull of the trigger, Genji started the game. It was a very simple FPS, an endurance game, to see how long one could last under fire. It _probably_ wasn’t fair of Genji to be using and abusing his abilities as a _ninja_ to be winning video games, but what _else_ would he be doing with them?

McCree studied Genji’s concentration level and did his best to match it. This “firefight” was nothing. It elicited no feelings of fear and hardly any adrenaline. Genji had never been under fire; no one had ever even raised a firearm toward him. He couldn’t have known what it might feel like. _I pray you never do, Sugar_.

Now, whence had _that_ sentiment come? He was here to do a job, nothing more. Innocent or otherwise, Genji Shimada was the most direct link Jesse had to his actual target and the information Hanzo held in his terribly sharp mind. The younger Shimada was merely a foothold up an impossibly steep cliff.

As the game started, Genji kept his wits about him. He turned his head and see Jesse standing next to him, but this was a competitive game, not co-op, so they both had to take care of their own waves of enemies. The cowboy felt his charge’s eyes on him, assessing him, trying to set him off-kilter, perhaps? It wasn’t going to work. Jesse’s hand was steady.

The game counted down from ten seconds. There was not a hint of nervousness in either competitor, both familiar with the game and its mechanics and both equally confident he could win. They were so focused upon the countdown, neither man noticed a small gathering of younger folks nearby, whispering and watching.

Once the countdown started, Genji’s eyes were forward, focusing on the numbers in front of him instead of the _literal_ cowboy beside him. Biting his lip, Genji’s fingers tapped at the handle of the gun, index finger only really resting on the trigger once they hit five seconds.

Jesse, by comparison, held the firearm loosely at his side. He knew how quickly these machines responded and also knew how to draw a six-shooter. Given that it was his weapon of choice, this was only natural, but to be so calm when a crowd had drawn up around them took otherworldly confidence. McCree was full of that, too. He grinned as the counter hit zero and the waves of bandanna-clad villains began to emerge.

The popped out of windows, hid behind balcony railings and pushed their way through many sets of batwing doors. One or two even hid in barrels placed strategically along the street. Jesse knocked no fewer than three of them into watering troughs for extra points--a hidden secret of the game--and reveled in the thrill of taking a few more out with a fan of the hammer.

The _ninja_ drew some measure of strength from the presence of the crowd, rather than shrugging it off as McCree did. It only encouraged him to strive for success, not that this game was _hard._ Thus far, the cowboy was holding up well, the game’s tell-tale death knell having not been sounded on either side. Genji couldn’t spare a glance at McCree however, distracted as he was by the onslaught of bandits. The waves came faster as the opposing player cleared skilled shots and gained points.

McCree’s eyes darted this way and that behind the visor, detecting enemies before they popped up by slight twitches in the pixels of the viewfinder. It was a trick he’d learned playing and losing this game over and over. He wondered if Genji was doing the same. He knew the young Shimada was doing _well_ at the very least, by the hush that had fallen over their audience.

Unbeknownst to the cowboy, Genji was using the same technique. What sort of _ninja_ would he be if he didn’t notice something like that? He was able to keep up with his bodyguard just fine, but was itching to find out just how high his score had climbed. The better one’s opponent performed in this game, the higher the stakes. The game kept pace with both combatants, challenging each with the other’s performance.

Jesse was starting to work up a sweat by the time he realized how high his score must have been. There was some pressure, of course, with the crowd and such, but McCree was calm, utterly placid. His body was doing all the work, muscles twitching minutely to send digital enemies to the afterlife. Easy.

Finally, things were starting to shake the _ninja_ up. Was the cowboy really doing that well? He tried to keep his cool in front of the audience. He held up a little longer, until finally, the waves overwhelmed him. Genji slipped up and missed a killing blow on an enemy and in an instant, _received_ one instead. His visor went red, and the entire match halted to sound his death off and announce the winner. Genji had not been expecting to lose to his bodyguard. The big American was pulling his visor off as Genji tipped his up to ogle the man. Jesse was grinning ear to ear, cheeks flushed.

“Good game,” said the cowboy, offering a hand for Genji to shake. The crowd went silent, wondering if Genji would take it. Shaking hands was a terribly western tradition, but in this day and age, culture bled through everything, blurring lines and boundaries. All the same, this was Genji _Shimada_ , not just some punk off the street.

Removing his visor, the _ninja_ placed it and the gun back on the machine’s proper receptacles. How could he refuse to shake the hand of a man who was smiling so brightly? Reaching out to firmly take the cowboy’s limb, Genji shook it.

“Most enjoyable.” Genji said, smiling in return as he pulled his hand away; Jesse’s white-toothed grin was infectious. Leaning on the machine, Genji gestured to his bodyguard’s score, a daunting _sixteen hundred_ _seventy five_ points. “Input your name, you managed to beat _my_ highscore.”

McCree fanned the hammer of his toy six-shooter to type the name J-E-S-S-E and then the ENTER button, all in rapid succession. He watched the score glow atop the board, above Genji’s name and then explode in colorful sparks as the menu reset. He turned and the crowd mobbed them. McCree was careful to keep himself between the _ninja_ and the onlookers, as was his duty.

When the crowd came for the two of them, Genji was sorely tempted to crowd surf, until he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. Pulling the device out to see Hanzo’s name, Genji let it ring for a moment as he took Jesse by the wrist, pulling him through the mob of young people and towards the nearest exit. He answered the call once they were free of the crowd.

“ _Moshimoshi?_ ” _Hello?_ Genji said into the phone. “ _Watashi wa hitsuyōdesu ka?_ ” _Am I needed?_

“You are at the arcade,” Hanzo said, in English, sternly. This was not a question and it did not smack of the elder brother’s approval. Then again, nothing _did_ these days, so Genji was unperturbed. “I am leaving for a… business conference in Beijing. I would like you to see me off.”

Jesse caught nothing of Hanzo’s half of the conversation, but _did_ gather that Genji did not want to do whatever it is his brother needed of him. There was something in his posture that was equal parts defiant and submissive.

Genji freed his bodyguard’s hand once the crowd of teens was no longer a problem, and continued for the exit as he listened to Hanzo. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised at all to hear the man was leaving, though what _did_ surprise him was the fact that Hanzo wanted to see him before he left. _There must be a reason,_ he reminded himself, all too eager for his brother’s attention and affection, but not so much that he missed certain cues. _There is always a reason._

“Right then. I’m coming home.”

Genji nodded into his phone and looked at Jesse, lamenting the fact that he’d have to show him the clubs and pubs later. It wouldn’t be a problem once _Hanzo_ was gone, though. In fact, the sooner they sent him off, the better. Ending the call, Genji left through the arcade’s sliding doors, Jesse in tow.

“Does ‘e call ya like that a lot?” McCree asked, more out of his own personal curiosity than anything mission-related. It was good to get inside the target’s head, of course, but something about this almost felt too personal to use for anything other than his primary cover, as a bodyguard. If asked, he would say that he wanted to know in order to avoid any awkward conversational subject matter.

“No, _usually_ me being out like this is no issue.” Hanzo hadn’t had to babysit him for a long time and he was not about to start letting his older brother baby him again. “And… he keeps to his own affairs, anyway. He has a business to run.” The young _ninja_ shrugged, and kept his hands deep in his pockets. The only thing odd about this was the fact that Hanzo hadn’t left without a word.

“Must be some’n big, huh?” Jesse prodded, catching up with Genji in a few quick strides but staying about half a step behind him. He knew how to play the bodyguard just fine, but couldn’t resist a look at that rear-end in those pants.

“That’s what worries me,” Genji admitted softly, shrugging his shoulders and continuing to amble his way along. He couldn’t help but wonder just how long Hanzo would be gone if he was making this big a deal of it. Luckily the arcade wasn’t far from home, so they’d be there in a moment and his churning stomach could rest.

McCree’s hands were swinging loosely at his sides, unperturbed by whatever his employer had to say. It was all part of the job; he had to take these things day by day. The urge to stuff his hands into his pockets was a strong one, but to avoid looking like a sulky teenager and give the air of professionalism, he kept them free.

Though he had already taken a liking to the cowboy, he couldn’t shake the discomfort of being shadowed. He could handle hanging around with someone, but if Jesse was about to follow him around _everywhere_ , _well_. Being a _ninja_ , it wouldn’t be hard to slip away if he could manage to get Jesse to take his eyes off him a few seconds. The problem was, Hanzo had probably drilled it into the bodyguard that his brother was not to be left alone for a single second. Bummer.

When they arrived at Shimada castle, Hanzo was awaiting them in the courtyard, as Genji had expected. His brother usually prepared for long journeys weeks in advance, so Hanzo had either been prepping while Genji wasn’t paying attention, or this journey was of vital importance. A feeling of unease settled over the young Shimada as he approached his brother.

“Thank you for returning so quickly,” said Hanzo, speaking English for McCree’s benefit. The cowboy removed his hat respectfully and kept a distance of just a few feet between himself and his charge. “I didn’t want to alarm you, so I kept this trip to myself while I prepared. I am not in any danger, little brother; neither are you… please behave while I am gone.”

Hanzo then did something very uncharacteristic of the chilly scion of the Shimada clan. He stepped forward and embraced his younger brother. Genji was slightly taller than his sibling, so the scene would have been comical, had it not been so painfully obvious the two young men had not so much as shaken hands since their parents passed.

Genji would have groaned or grumbled being told to behave, except his brother followed the warning with a hug. It wasn’t like Hanzo to make any kind of movement toward physical affection, and the _ninja_ felt a pang through his heart, cutting him deeply. Turning his head away from Hanzo and his bodyguard, Genji awkwardly reciprocated the action, wrapping his arms around his older brother, and after a moment, giving him the universal “okay, hug’s over” pat on the back before releasing him.

“ _Shiro wa genkideshou._ ” _The castle will be fine._ Genji assured his brother. Hanzo’s voice caught in his throat, but he hadn’t opened his mouth, so no one heard the hitch. Instead, he nodded curtly and receded to join his escort and slide into the gaping maw doors of a slick, black SUV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming with us on the journey so far... We can't wait to show you what's in store for our favorite cowboy/ninja combo!


	3. touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo hasn't been so kind in ages and Genji is taken aback... but McCree hasn't time to worry about all that; he's got work to do.

Genji refused to lay eyes upon McCree, even after his brother’s transport left their view. He stood, motionless, in the middle of the courtyard, shoulders stiff, an undeniable lump gathering in his throat. He couldn’t choke it down, but couldn’t show Jesse such weakness. It was agonizing, standing there, unable to escape.

McCree didn’t move a muscle, studying Genji’s every move, the intake and output of breath, the way his hands flexed, open and close--fists and then claws, then fists again. He could see the young man struggling with something and if he had to guess, it had everything to do with what his chilly brother had just done. Hanzo was clearly not the type to display physical affection, but the way he’d grabbed his younger brother screamed with need. _Touch-starved scion of a criminal empire… in’nerestin’..._

The young Shimada would have properly excused himself from his bodyguard if he didn’t fear his voice cracking, but after what _Hanzo_ did, formalities would have to be set aside. Instead the _ninja_ began walking toward the castle. Clubs and bars would have to wait until he could speak again, until his vision was no longer clouded by forming tears.

Jesse watched him for only a few moments before kicking into gear. He stayed a respectful distance behind Genji and even gave “the eye” to any onlookers who began to have the appearance of gawking. Most of the guards did not, however, and McCree regarded this as either excellent training, or familiarity.

His head drooping low, keeping to a quick, shuffling gait, it took only a few moments for the young _ninja_ to make it into the castle. Once they were inside, Genji sighed deeply, and wiped his eyes, slowing for his bodyguard as he continued on his way toward, not his room, but the kitchen.

“ _Mizu_ .” _Water._ He said weakly to Jesse, knowing there would likely be people in the kitchen, but resigned to his fate due to thirst. McCree nodded, though Genji couldn’t see it and grunted understanding. At this time of the day, the prep cooks would be hard at work, making ready for any meal the young master and the elders of the clan might want. Shimada castle was a huge place, housing many of Genji and Hanzo’s middle-aged and even elderly relatives. The cowboy pondered this way of living, thinking it old-fashioned, but hardly outdated. _Must be nice, bein’ near all yer aunts an’ uncles…_

He’d never actually _met_ Genji’s family.

It did not take long for the pair to reach the kitchen, and as Genji  expected, it was full of people. He only really had the guts to stick his head in the door to ask one of the busy workers for a glass of water, where usually he would waltz right in and grab himself a snack--a bona-fide midnight snack, too, when no one was around. Their surprise did _not_ take the _ninja_ aback one bit; a visit to the kitchen in broad daylight was odd, for him, but his presence would make them move quicker, so he wouldn’t have to wait long. He leaned patiently outside the door, against the wall, keeping his eyes anywhere but his bodyguard.

Jesse knew what was up, of course, but tact dictated he keep it to himself. It was his mission, after all, to endear himself to the Shimada clan and pointing out that Genji’s emotions were getting the better of him because of Hanzo’s hug was _not_ the way to do that.

The door popped open a moment later, spilling a young prep cook--a new hire, perhaps--out into the hallway and straight into McCree’s broad chest. He grunted, but did not seem perturbed as her face turned as red as his flannel shirt.

“Howdy,” he purred, grinning. The look was unintentionally sultry.

At this, Genji turned his head. A brow rose seeing just how his bodyguard greeted this young lady. So they were more alike than he’d thought. Seemed right for an _American_ , he supposed, and again he averted his eyes to wait quietly for his drink, which was promptly delivered once the prep cook recovered. She scuttled back into the kitchen as McCree tipped his hat. Still, he did not speak, unwilling to press Genji’s feelings. This was too new; he had to earn the man’s trust.

Genji drank his water in peace, hoping to wash down the knot in his throat. After a couple silent moments and no luck in that department, he finally spoke up.

“I will continue showing you around Hanamura tomorrow, for now I would rather… meditate.” Which _really_ meant he would isolate himself, but will his bodyguard _allow_ such a thing? It took every fiber of his being to not groan just wondering this, he slipped into the kitchen a moment to set the empty glass on the nearest counter, before leaving once again. He headed, perhaps predictably, back toward the courtyard. His objective lay on the far side, those elaborate elevators within the shining lobby that led to solace and isolation.

McCree had not answered him, because Genji had moved off before a response formed in his head. He trailed behind the young Shimada, taking time to once more study his surroundings, everything from the size of the courtyard itself, to the positioning of all possible cover. Jesse’s eyes darted skillfully, this way and that, without looking like he was actually searching for anything at all.

 _Great_ he was going to continue following him, Genji stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and rolled his eyes. Luckily, his back was still turned to the cowboy. Slowing his pace, Genji looked up one of the nearest sakura trees, then over his shoulder to his bodyguard before jumping up into the thing with ease. This would probably be the most privacy he’d get while Hanzo had this man employed, so once he found himself a good few branches to lounge in, Genji settled in, leaving his bodyguard on the ground.

Instantly, Jesse recognized this motion as old habit. Genji seemed the type to run when something upset him. It was natural; there was nothing inherently “wrong” with that, just another character trait to memorize and file away. _Not too far at all._

The _ninja_ was sure any minute now, the cowboy would call him out on his bluff. _I reckon that ain’t meditatin’, Sugar,_ he said mentally, mimicking his bodyguard’s voice. Sighing deeply, Genji made himself comfortable, and shut his eyes. Briefly, he wondered what his bodyguard might do now that he was untouchable, though he refused to make his interest obvious by looking down at McCree.

The cowboy settled himself at the base of the tree and tugged his hat down over his eyes to shield them from the midday sun. He crossed his long legs at the ankles and laid both hands on his stomach.

It was a relief to hear nothing from his bodyguard, though of course he hadn’t left. Jesse was silent, however. Right now that was all Genji needed. The cowboy’s presence, though it was at the bottom of the tree, was comforting. The _ninja_ lay peacefully in the tree as his mind went on and on, mulling over everything Hanzo’s sudden hug could have meant.

Jesse, too, was mulling over the gesture. Hanzo didn’t seem at all like the physically affectionate type. Genji’s reaction would have told anyone with eyes that much. How long had it been since the brothers embraced? The funeral of their father? Their mother? Longer, perhaps… The situation was complicated and his first report to Reyes would be _loaded_.

Above the cowboy, Genji lay silent for a good long hour before it started making him sore. Now he ached for bed, but perhaps tea first, or an early supper. Looking down to his bodyguard, Genji wondered if the man had fallen asleep doing nothing but sitting there. He certainly _hoped_ McCree was asleep, because then he could slip away unnoticed. Righting himself into something less of a lying position, Genji then hopped silently down to the ground.

“...startin’ t’wonder if you were plannin’ on stayin’ the night up yonder,” purred the cowboy from under his hat. He reached up and tipped the brim so his soft, brown eyes were visible to the young _ninja_. He hoped this would drive home the very real fact that they were stuck together and he had no intention of failing the man who signed his paycheck.

The cowboy speaking managed to surprise the _ninja_ , not enough to _yelp_ or _gasp_ but it did surprise him.

“I may,” he scoffs, sparing the cowboy a glance over his shoulder as he crosses his arms. “would that bother you?” Though of course he wasn’t about to spend a night in a tree. He had a huge, soft bed with his name on it...

"You don't seem like the tree fort type, but then I might’ve misread ya," drawled McCree. Nothing about this exchange was due to misreading the young Shimada, however. Once more, Jesse was testing the waters, seeing what buttons he could push and which were off limits. He had a feeling that anything to do with Hanzo would be the latter. Slowly, he leaned forward and stood, knees cracking. Once Jesse had drawn himself to his full height, he arched back and groaned putting on a little show for Genji by stretching his arms above his head.

"Under different circumstances, perhaps." Was all he had to stay on that. Different circumstances would be actual meditation and perhaps training or stalking, but this time around he simply needed time to cool off. "A bed is much more comfortable than a tree." His eyes scanned the cowboy as the thick man stretched and he turned to look back to the castle just before McCree was through, not wanting to be caught staring.

"I'm headed to bed,” The young _ninja_ declared as he started on his way back inside.

"Anything you need," responded McCree, leaving off the spontaneous pet name he'd adopted for the man in favor of some modicum of professionalism. Genji was clearly in pain, emotionally-speaking and feeling him out would be harder if he purposefully shut everything and everyone out. No, now was not the time to test that avenue. Jesse gave Genji enough space so he could feel as though he was walking alone, but stayed close enough to be a threat to anything that might attempt to do the younger man harm.

It was nice to have room to breathe, and he was incredibly thankful his bodyguard wasn't at his hip at a time like this. Once the pair was inside once again, Genji slowed to look back at the other man. "I will be heading straight to my room, if you would prefer to get dinner before you retire for the night."

Though he didn't want to admit it, an elevator ride with someone would not be great for him right now; such close quarters would initiate unwanted conversation or awkward silence. Neither was preferable, but there was no way Genji could word such a thing without seeming like he was trying to run.

Hanzo had informed Jesse that Shimada castle was the one place where Genji did not have to be in his direct line of sight. Obviously, McCree knew better than to let the _ninja_ get too far away, but he had a feeling that right now, all Genji needed was space. He had no doubt the younger man was headed where he said. What the cowboy doubted was that he would stay.  
"Sounds good," said he with a soft grin and a shrug. He did his best to avoid offering any pity by accident, as such a thing would surely upset Genji. Offering only a nod in response, Genji then left for the private elevator. Spending the rest of the night in the comfort of his room would be nice. He'd call for tea once he was comfortable. Once more, Jesse followed at a respectful distance, mentally tabulating everything that would need to be in his report to Reyes.

 _First,_ he thought, _I’m gunna need to sweep the room for bugs_ . As long as Genji actually stayed in the castle, this would not be difficult. The young Shimada’s alone time would give _Jesse_ time to clear his living space, rearrange everything to a properly defensible position and give his report. If asked about the removal of the bugs--unlikely--he would say that he preferred to be trusted, if the life of the scion’s younger brother was in his hands.

McCree decided he would head up after making a quick sweep of the kitchen area, maybe talk up some of the staff and familiarize himself with a few of them and they with him. It would be easier to move about if almost everyone already knew him. He was drawing a lot of stares, being tall as he was and clearly not from the neighborhood. Best get that out of the way.

To that end, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and sauntered back whence they had come, taking his sweet time and enjoying the whisper of spurs on fine, finished flooring. The kitchen was abuzz when he poked his head in, but all motion and speech stopped the moment his presence was known.

“Don’ mind me,” he said in a drawl, raising a hand to show what he meant, in case some of them did not speak English. The head chef--or that’s what he looked like, given his stature and stern demeanor--clapped twice, loudly, garnering the attention of every prep cook in the area and, truth be told, Jesse himself.

“ _Shigoto ni modoru. Anata wa kyūkei-chū ni hanasu koto ga dekimasu,_ ” he barked. _Get back to work,_ McCree noted. _You can talk on your break_ . He wondered if they actually _got_ a break. The way that man was staring them down, doubt weighed heavily on Jesse’s mind. But it was none of his business.

“Are you thirsty, _Gaijin_ \- _san_?” It was the prep cook from earlier. She bore another glass of water and was now holding it out to McCree. He glanced quickly at her boss and took the offered beverage.

“Th’ name’s McCree,” he said, tipping his head. “Jesse, if that’s easier, little lady.”

“It is,” she responded, “and thank you. My name is--”

“Hakodatte!” The kitchen manager shouted. “ _Donari o tomete, shigoto o hajimeyou!_ ”

 _Stop flirting and start working,_ was the command he’d given. McCree shooed her away with a wink and a smile, adding a friendly shrug of apology to reiterate that he felt bad, but honestly, that man scared him. The look he gave Jesse on his way out of the kitchen with his water glass was like a laser beam on the back of his head. _Familiar,_ he mused.

He lifted the cup to lips he’d not realized were parched as he moseyed easily toward the elevator that would take him to his quarters beneath Genji’s. Hopefully, the young Shimada would be settled and McCree could go about his business unhindered. The way Genji was acting, he’d be asleep by now. Jesse could relate, but there was no time. Jet lag could wait.

Yet another elevator ride pulled the cowboy upward toward his first report to Reyes. It would be quick and only start after that thorough sweep of his room he’d planned. He wished he’d been shown his room before he’d met Genji who, admittedly, was quite a distraction. Jesse smiled down into his glass, exhausted, but catching his second wind as he always did on long missions. The black ops cowboy didn’t know how long he would be in Hanamura, but he was determined to make every second count.

“Yer gunna _love_ this one, _jefe_ ,” he chuckled as the doors slid open. The sound was becoming familiar, which was good. If he remembered how it was _supposed_ to sound, he’d also notice when something was off. This was the central hub of one of Japan’s fastest-rising _yakuza_ operations, not to mention a center of global commerce, finance, the works. Anything could go wrong. The thrill sent a shiver down his spine and settled in his groin, a pleasing ache and familiar heat rustling his desire for chaos.

He glanced once at the stairs which led to Genji’s room and bypassed them entirely, sauntering to his own room. The doors were closed, as he’d assumed they’d be and, upon entering, he found that his luggage had been faithfully delivered, not a zipper or tag out of place. Hopefully they respected privacy as much as it looked like they did, else he’d have to check his bags, too. _Might as well do it, anyway,_ he reasoned, caution winning out trust, as always.

He set his glass on a table near the doorway and entered the relatively spacious room. The bed was made with a deep red comforter and matching pillows, stacked expertly at the head, just like a hotel. Jesse was half expecting a chocolate to be left there each evening when he returned. The thought brought a laugh up from his lungs, exhaled through half-parted lips. He shook his head and tried to remember last time he was in a hotel that was quite so fancy.

Honestly, McCree couldn’t recall if he’d _ever_ been somewhere like that. He began running his hands along the upper-inner side of the slider door of his relatively massive closet. It would be easier to do this without his clothing hanging inside it to hamper him. _Hamper_ , he gasped internally. _Do I_ have _one o’ those or…_

Of course he did. It was tucked into the back corner of his closet. This, he grasped and pulled out, feeling all around the plastic for any abnormalities. It was clean and so, too, would his floor be. Reyes would have killed him if he lived here like a slob. The man demanded cleanliness in all things. _I don’ give a shit if you’re livin’ in a goddamn shack in the godforsaken Outback,_ chico _; you_ will _have a tidy fuckin’ home,_ entiendes _?_

“I get it, boss-man,” Jesse muttered to himself as he moved onto the light fixtures. It had been Reyes who taught him to sweep for bugs, along with a thousand and one other things. He was already a survivor; the commander of Blackwatch knew that the moment he’d picked the outlaw out of a lineup. The instinct had to be refined, however and Gabriel Reyes had done this through the crucible of his personal training regimen. Brutal would have been a gentle word for it. McCree shivered.

He moved onto the small, personal bathroom in the suite-like set of rooms, pressing his fingers to each tile individually. The mosaic on the countertop was gorgeous, almost too pretty to tamper with, but that didn’t stop him checking every inch. He drew back a moment, when he was finished, to properly observe it. From his perspective, the image was unclear, but in the mirror, squinting a little, he made out the shape of a green dragon, swirling through grey-gold mist around the basin. The workmanship was astounding. A low whistle left his lips.

“This place really _is_ a palace,” he commented to himself as he dropped to his knees before the toilet. Jesse had been in _this_ position too many times in his life, certainly more than he cared to count. This time, no one was holding his hair, patting him on the back, or cursing at him in Spanish. He was here of his own volition; his stomach had yet to betray him. The cowboy tilted his body forward to reach up behind the bowl, feeling with fleshy fingers for any bumps or oddities.

The shower was next, though McCree made sure to pay special attention to the plumbing within the toilet itself. It was a sleek design, not much room for bugs, but these were _ninja_ , after all. He didn’t trust that they wouldn’t have some nefariously small microphones hidden someplace in his room. He understood Hanzo’s need to be sure his younger brother was safe, of course, but that didn’t make _his_ job any easier, so the cowboy resented the elder Shimada for this.

The bathroom was clean. Jesse moved back out into his room, proper. The lights were up next, tableside, sconces and overhead. One by one, he checked them all. The obvious position would be the overhead light, so he started there. Reyes taught him to take it step by step, grab the easy ones first and check them off the list. Then move along to the lesser-expected places. Room-by-room was essential.

“Y’ain’t makin’ this easy,” Jesse grumbled. The headboard of his bed was next. He didn’t put anything past the head of the Shimada clan or the men who worked for him. Security was essential and this was Hanzo’s baby brother. It made sense the man would be suspicious of McCree. His hand slid along the backside of the headboard. There were no obvious signs so he dropped to hands and knees and began feeling under the edges of the bed, all the way around. Thorough wouldn’t begin to describe how careful McCree would have to be on this mission, but the thrill was half the fun. He’d already planned how he was going to send reports back to Reyes, now he just had to be sure he _could_.

The bathroom was the most likely candidate. As Jesse reached one corner of the bed, he felt a bolt that was rather unnatural under his fingers and pinched it hard, giving it a solid tug. Out of a small socket popped a microphone that was no larger than a ladybug. He held it up to his face and squeezed, snapping it into pieces. If Hanzo asked, Jesse would explain that he understood the man was just watching out for his brother, but if he didn’t think he could trust the man he’d hired to do _just that_ , then why’d he hired him?

McCree stood then, stretching and arching his back. Setting his hat gingerly on the bed, he began unbuttoning his shirt and sauntering toward the bathroom. The shirt fell on the floor easily. Next came his boots. These, he reflected, he should leave near the door, to accommodate the culture of the people he was now serving.

“All about good manners,” he commented. “ _That’s_ how the west was won.”

The chuckle that arose from deep inside was laced with irony and a sardonic sense of falsehood. He had perfected the sound that came out. It was deep, seductive and almost half a growl. It was temptation incarnate. He might have been a black ops agent and a soldier, but his honest-to-god specialty was honeypot work. This was a bit of both.

Above him, his charge twisted in his sheets, grasping them tightly and choking back ugly sobs. Why, today of all days, had Hanzo decided to be warm? The elder Shimada had not hugged his baby brother since the funeral and even then, he only did it after everyone had left and they were alone, standing before the graves of their parents, side-by-side and all alone. _It was sunny that day_ , Genji recalled, _so cruel of the sky to smile down when all we could do was cry_. Today had been similar. His brother set off for parts unknown and the sun had been audacious enough to press at Genji’s cheeks, gentle and warm like a lover. The weather was a cruel mistress. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to picture anything other than his brother’s back as Hanzo left.

Genji’s new bodyguard was hard at work in his new living quarters, uncaring about the weather. Flicking open a panel on his prosthetic, McCree began poking at a tiny, holographic keyboard. As he shed his pants, the face of Gabriel Reyes appeared on the screen. McCree closed the door behind himself and turned the shower on. It would be loud enough to block communication, in case there were microphones in any of the outer walls. Given that plumbing was prone to sweating, he knew there would be none in the bathroom.

“McCree,” growled the Blackwatch commander. “You’re late.”

“ _Lo siento,_ _papá_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a long time comin', mostly because it's no longer edited RP... it's just writing. We're collaborating every day to add more to the chapter and edit it at the same time. Apologies for the delay... and also our terrible, google-translate Japanese. We're very aware of the different levels of politeness in the spoken language, but it's been years since either of us took a class. We're hoping y'all are willing to infer their various tones from the context. Thanks a bundle!


	4. gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji is an obnoxiously slippery dragon and McCree figures he might have taken on perhaps a little more than he bargained for... but a mission's a mission and dammit all, he's going to see this one through.

The commander’s expression was one of disdain and displeasure, but that really  _ was _ just his face and Jesse knew it. He was grinning ear-to-ear, that slow, shit-eating smile of his that he’d been wearing the day Blackwatch caught up to the Deadlock gang.  _ The day I learned who my  _ real _ dad was _ . 

“For pity’s sake, Agent McCree,” Reyes snarled. “You are on a mission.  _ Commander _ will do just fine.”

Every word was spoken through gritted teeth. This, too, was a phenomenon to which Jesse had become accustomed. In fact, he often caused it. Thick skin was a must-have around Overwatch HQ. 

“Loud an’ clear, sir,” McCree tossed a wild salute as he stepped into the shower proper. No sense leaving perfectly good hot water unattended. His father rolled weary eyes. The bags underneath them might have been Gucci, but they still spoke of exhaustion. 

“Fill me in,” Reyes demanded. 

“Take it easy,” came a voice from somewhere in the distance of the call. Jesse recognized it immediately and grinned even wider. Ever-present, Strike-Commander Morrison was a permanent fixture near Gabriel Reyes. If they were not attached, the man was not far. Marriage did that to a person, McCree figured.  _ Mus’ be nice.  _

“Your  _ son _ is ridiculous, Morrison. He can’t even--he won’t… he is  _ unprofessional _ ,” Reyes snapped. The laughter that came from behind him was almost comical, if it had not sounded so very, very exhausted. Clearly, neither man had slept since Jesse left. Military commanders or not, they were still his dads and they still worried. They coudln’t help it. 

“Oh he’s  _ my _ son when he’s ridiculous, Gabe, okay, I see how it is,” the response was muffled due to distance, but McCree heard every word and bit back a guffaw. He didn’t want to wake his charge, who was hopefully snoozing above him, with raucous laughter. That would have been in bad form. 

“He gets it from you,  _ cabron _ ,” snarled the irritated black ops commando. “ _ Lo sé. _ ”

“Anyway,” McCree interjected. “My report thus far… if’n y’all are done bickerin’.”

Once more, Strike-Commander Morrison’s laughter echoed from the communication link and Jesse couldn’t hold back a smile. Reyes grunted once more and gestured that the cowboy ought to continue. 

Jesse relayed all he’d observed, from the layout of Shimada castle, to the “layout” of the relationship of the brothers. He concluded that Genji was the type to act out for attention, but didn’t know what to do with it when he got it and Hanzo shut everyone out. Opening that one wasn’t going to be simple.

“Focus on the younger brother,” Reyes instructed. “Hanzo’s psych profile doesn’t offer enough ammunition for you, kid.”

“Anything you say,  _ jefe _ ,” McCree responded. “Over an’ out.”

He closed the transmission and slipped the panel on his arm shut. The nanomachines within the arm itself would absorb and expel the moisture at a later date. This wasn’t one of those prosthetics one could remove so easily. The central elbow joint was grafted into his bone. It was made of some sort of carbon polymer, not a regular alloy, but something cooked up by some brilliant engineers.  _ One of a kind, _ Jesse mused as he grasped the shampoo bottle that had been placed on one of the shelves. It was eucalyptus, a strong, menthol-like scent he’d never much liked. 

“Always preferred lavender,” purred the cowboy as he began to suds his hair. “But beggars can’t be choosers, can they?”

Not so very far away, Genji tossed and turned in his bed, choking back frustrated sobs. The  _ ninja _ shivered, eyes red and puffy. He was completely wrapped in his blankets, but cold to the bone. 

The only light in the room came from his phone screen, as the green-haired young man finally sat up and began mindlessly browsing social media for anything to take his mind off his brother. Maybe he could find some local parties. That would be sure to take his mind off everything. Party hopping always made him numb to whatever was supposed to be on his mind. 

His feed displayed several such gatherings, but none of them appealed to him, which was unsettling. Genji shifted in his nest of blankets, still aimlessly scrolling. His eyes were half-lidded, his thoughts a hundred miles away, or wherever his brother had gone. Genji silently scrolled the feed a while longer, until he settled on a gathering not far from his area. Drinks, music, lots of people, exactly what he needed. At this time of night, he was positive his bodyguard had retired, so slipping out would be absolutely no problem, as usual. Sluggishly, the young Shimada ditched his clothes, and dressed himself in something else, setting out for a night on the town. His heart was not in it, at all, but his body needed to be satisfied, or at least numb to whatever his psyche was doing to him.

Jesse had no idea the young man was slipping out, finishing his report and shower simultaneously. He toweled his body off and gazed into the mirror, counting the scars and running his hands over his chest and abdomen. It was trim muscle all around, pleasing to behold. The cowboy was always appreciative of his body, and why not? He was gorgeous. Flashing his mirror self a wicked grin, the Blackwatch agent moved out of the bathroom to dig in his luggage for clothing. He would put the rest away later. A knock on his door snapped his attention out of late evening musings, however. 

“Mr. McCree,” came a voice from outside. “ _ Onegai _ , sir, Master Shimada has departed--we couldn’t stop him.”

“Fuck,” hissed Jesse under his breath, scolding himself for letting the bereft young man out of his sights like that. He should have known. Tossing clothing on as quickly as he could, he called toward the door, “I’ll be right out!”

Genji had already walked out the gate, checking his phone once more for an address as he walked. Hopefully he’d be there before the guards in his house were able to alert his sleeping bodyguard. Sure, the American was attractive all around, but having him attached at the hip at all times would be a bit too much. The way Hanzo ran the house, the young  _ ninja _ needed room to breathe. He wasn’t going to get into too much trouble. 

A cab ride into the heart of the city brought Genji exactly where he wanted to be, in the center of it all, the middle of pulsing lights and bodies, sweat and heat and free-flowing drinks, relatively speaking. Things might as well have been free, given how wealthy he was, anyway. He found the nearest good-looking bunch of people and immediately began to mingle. 

Back at Shimada castle, Jesse was grilling the guards, asking where Genji might have gone. They informed him the young Shimada often disappeared for days on end and that he always came back. This earned them a growl and a look that suggested punishment if anything happened to Genji. For some reason, the security officers believed this foreigner. Something about his eyes warned of a deep-seated anger, something he’d never quite shaken with whatever training he’d received. One finally spoke up.

“He uses an app… to look for local parties,” said the guard. “It’s called Neon--like, neon lights and--”

“Yeah I get it,” Jesse interrupted, snarling through his teeth with each syllable. This wasn’t going to be easy, was it? Oh well. Reyes wouldn’t have picked him if he didn’t think he could handle it. “Someone’s got it, right? Pull up the biggest, loudest, nastiest party y’all can find, you get me?”

Every guard scrambled for their mobile devices all at once. Some of them, he noted, bore badges of honor where they’d clearly tried to stop Genji and he’d had none of it.  _ Boy’s got bite, _ his inner monologue purred.  _ There’s one stallion I might not be  _ able _ to break _ . 

After a frantic, five minute search, there was one party in particular everyone seemed to agree upon as the biggest and loudest. It was going on deep downtown in an upscale club and hosted by the son of an extremely wealthy, local business owner. It was an open bar and a birthday party, something big, extravagant and the perfect place for a very sad young man to lose himself.

“Hail me a cab,” McCree demanded. “I gotta get dressed f’r the occasion.”

He raced back to the elevator and waited as it carried him upstairs. A simple jeans-chaps and flannel shirt combination wouldn't work for something like this. He was going to have to go tight and wild as possible to re-capture Genji’s attention. The hat would stay, but the pants became leather, the shirt loose and shimmery, with a deep v-neck that displayed fuzz, tanned flesh and scars… very alluring, he decided. Lastly, he plopped the hat back on his head. Sneaky, he would not be, but he’d catch more than a few eyes and with the way Genji had been looking at him earlier, there was no way he’d let the cowboy just mosey through a crowd all on his lonesome. Ideally, the young Shimada would be jealous of the attention being paid to his bodyguard, but McCree had more than one backup plan in case the  _ ninja  _ was more reticent. 

“Oh Sugar, yer in fer a world o’ hurt…” He was cupid with a revolver and Jesse McCree did not miss. 

Somewhere, at the center of town, in the very middle of the mass of writhing bodies that somehow counted as the birthday party of a wealthy businessman’s son, Genji Shimada was drowning himself in the pleasures of the flesh. He moved this way and that, swaying with the thumping rhythm, letting the wild strobe take his mind entirely elsewhere, feeling the heat and sweat and pleasure of grabbing and groping and grinding.

He’d already had a few shots of something he did not recognize and was moving onto harder liquor and heartier drinking buddies. Genji sifted through the crowd, a numb phantom, devoid of life and care and full to the brim with confusion, conflict, worry and all the things that made a young man’s life unenjoyable. 

Hanzo was gone, away on business, so it was time to party, right? That was what everyone expected him to do anyway.  _ I can’t disappoint my public _ , his hazy brain thought to itself as he found his body wrapped in the arms of a tall, faceless being--man or woman, he could not tell and frankly, he did not care. He leaned into it and simply moved whatever direction it pleased. When that partner was done with him, he moved onto someone else… or he was passed to someone else; it made no difference. 

It was unclear to the young  _ ninja _ just how much time had passed when a sparkle caught his eye. The green-haired man looked to see something golden shimmering above the crowd. Whatever it was, it drew in the young dragon’s drunken attention, and he found himself moving through the mass of bodies toward it, barely excusing himself from whatever crowd he found himself with to investigate, set on finding out who could possibly be dressed in gold.

McCree had made a last-second decision on the way to the club to apply as much body glitter as he could manage.  _ What’s a dragon like more’n gold?  _ It was a silly notion, but he had to get a drunken Genji’s attention. The shirt he’d chosen was also gold, though the shimmer only caught when he moved under the flashing lights of the club. The floors weren’t sticky and the alcohol was expensive. This place was  _ very  _ exclusive. Jesse had charmed his way in, promising fellatio to the bouncer using only his eyes and wicked lips. 

The closer the young  _ ninja _ got, the more gold he saw, he found himself oddly drawn, if only to the colour. When this person was finally within his reach, Genji hooked his arm around this golden person’s.

“ _ Genji wa anata to isshodesu. _ ”  _ Genji is with you. _ The young Shimada purred, at this point it hadn’t really mattered just who he found himself with as long as he was being drowned in attention and alcohol. Being arm candy worked just fine for him, that was until he looked up to clearly see the cowboy hat. 

McCree’s brow rose at Genji’s sultry tone. This boy was flat-out drunk. He was desirable, sure, but Jesse wasn’t some monster. He wouldn’t take advantage of his employer’s kid brother for fear of death and/or painful dismemberment. Not to mention making moves on a drunken party-goer was the sleaziest trick in the book. His parents taught him better… both sets. 

“C’mon,” he grunted, wrapping a strong arm about Genji to support him and tucking the young fellow close to his body. They made their way slowly through the sea of bodies, McCree leading and Genji leaning. It was quite a sight, as Jesse had captured the attention of easily half the club. 

“ _ Matte-- _ ” Genji managed, shaking his spinning head and looking to the cowboy.  _ Wait. _ “ _ Nokosanai! _ ”  _ Do not leave! _ But he couldn’t do much more than try to worm out of the cowboy’s grasp which, given just how wasted he was, was  _ not _ about to happen.

Jesse kept a firm hold on Genji, without being too restrictive. The last thing he needed was for the young  _ ninja _ to panic and injure one or, more likely, both of them. A car was waiting when they emerged and Jesse put a big hand on the back of Genji’s head, ducking it down so he wouldn’t hit the doorway of the vehicle, climbing in only when he was sure he had the younger Shimada secured. 

“Shimada castle,” he said to the driver. “You know the drill.” 

The ride back was anything but peaceful, with Genji carrying on and messing with his seatbelt, Jesse’s seatbelt--Jesse’s  _ actual  _ belt, hands going this way and that, all over himself and the cowboy. McCree had to fend him off whilst maintaining composure, for the sake of the driver, more than anything else. The plan was simple: secret Genji into the compound, to his private elevator, and then tuck his ass into bed and wait for the impending hangover. McCree had a feeling the younger Shimada was the whiny sort, so he wasn’t looking forward to it, but his job was to be this fellow’s bodyguard, so dammit all, he was going to do that to the best of his ability.  _ Lettin’ ‘im get away wasn’t too slick, though,  _ he reminded himself bitterly. 

When they finally reached the castle, Genji looked out the window to see his home just outside, and much like the spoiled, rich child he was, crossed his arms and for the first time the entire car ride sat very still. With this pose, he silently refused to move from his seat.

“Sugar, don’ make me knock ya out,” McCree warned dangerously, his voice deep and low, speaking directly into Genji’s ear. His lips ghosted the outside, tempting and teasing, enticing the  _ ninja _ to follow him out of the car. Truthfully, the way Genji was asking tempted him to just knock the fellow out for fun. He’d never had much in his life and seeing someone who had everything act this way made his stomach turn.  _ Sugar, yer cute but you ain’t seen nothin’ yet… _

Genji's first thought was  _ Hanzo wouldn’t let him, _ but as Hanzo wasn’t there right now, he didn’t have much choice but to do as the cowboy demanded. It was odd to be home after an attempted night out on the town, where usually it would end in either a love hotel or a stranger’s bed. This whole  _ bodyguard _ thing was becoming a pain in the neck. But the  _ ninja _ pushed himself up and left the car, heading back into the castle while muttering  _ many _ terrible things under his breath.

Jesse caught strings of curses and uncomfortable outcomes not even veiled as vague threats. He shook his head, understanding then frustration and even remembering a time when he was much the same--specifically when Reyes had first picked him up. But that felt like ages ago. 

“You'd best behave,” McCree warned as they stepped into the private lift, his top sparkling uncomfortably, “else I'm gunna hafta explain t’that brother o’ yers why y'all got a communicable disease an’ a lovechild--anyway, none o’ them schmoozes were up ta yer level anyway.”

“ _ Anata wa, anata ga sono dore yori mo sugurete iru yō ni. _ ”  _ As if you’re better than any of them. _ Genji muttered under his breath, crossing his arms tight as he leaned against the back wall of the elevator, his eyes anywhere but his bodyguard. 

McCree acted as though he’d not understood and grunted, “come again?” But his thoughts were ablaze with how much classier he was than any drugged-up, alcohol-laden, club crawler, just looking for a piece of tail. Genji was as fine as they came, but boy oh boy was he arrogant, selfish and privileged. Jesse could have whopped him a good one. But that was not his place, nor his job. Instead, he rode the rest of the way in silence, counting down the seconds until they reached the topmost floor. 

The young dragon wasn’t any sort of ready to repeat himself to his daft bodyguard. Instead he waited patiently as a drunk  _ ninja _ could for the elevator door to open. Once it did, Genji stumbled out of the small box as quickly as he could without tripping over his feet, set on returning to his room for the night since the cowboy had made it  _ very _ clear he wasn’t about to get away with sneaking out again… not  _ tonight _ at least, but that was a scheme for another day.

McCree watched him go and kept a wary eye on the stairs as the  _ ninja _ ascended the final set to his room. He didn’t move a muscle until he heard the clack of the door sliding shut behind Genji. Granted, the man could have been fooling him, intent on wandering out again, but Jesse had a feeling he’d hear the stumbling gait before the  _ ninja  _ could get any farther than the threshold of the alcove that led to his own door. This he now entered, irritated and exhausted, but ready for an all-night vigil. Genji was not about to escape again. McCree just had to change. 

The outfit, while not completely uncomfortable, was hardly suitable for guarding anyone’s younger brother, especially not Hanzo Shimada’s. He felt foolish--a little sexy, but mostly foolish. The cowboy wisely left the door open behind him as he entered his room, shucking his club garb immediately. The flannel of his favorite shirt kissed his flesh so very gently on the way up his arms and over his shoulders, he could have danced.  _ Reyes was right,  _ he thought to himself, picturing the stern face of his Latino father,  _ a good shirt makes for a good stake-out. _

It was an odd phrase, McCree reflected, but then Gabriel Reyes often made things up and pretended they were common sayings. Strike-Commander Morrison was always there to deflate him, thank goodness. Just thinking about his parents made the cowboy a little bit homesick, but not enough to distract him. He loved traveling, seeing new places, shooting new people; it was all good for him. It was his life, after all, and there really was no returning to what was before. 

“Y’know you’ve found the right place when ya wanna get back to it,” he told his mirrored image, dropping the hat on his head and checking himself out. “Much better.”

With that, he concluded his preening and sauntered right back out the door and up the stairway to Genji’s room. Ear to the door, Jesse listened for several moments to ascertain just what was going on within. When he heard nothing, he pulled it open and stepped into the gloom. 

“Mr. Shimada?” He called as quietly and politely as he could manage. “Y’all in here? I know ya can’tve gotten out; them windows don’ open this far up.”

Once again, the young Shimada was wrapped up in bed on his phone, the room dark except for whatever moonlight leaked in through the windows and the glow of the  _ ninja _ ’s phone on his pale face, clothes strewn about the floor between the door and the bed. He heard the cowboy loud and clear despite it being the  _ last _ thing he wanted to hear, and chose not to answer him.

“Now yer bein’ a brat,” McCree purred. “Tha’s fine. I’mma be outside if ya need anything, yer highnASS.” 

He knew there was a chance of repercussions if Genji decided to rat him out to Hanzo, but then, from what he had observed of the stoic elder brother, Hanzo was not about to spank the bodyguard for calling his spoiled younger brother a couple of names. In fact, Jesse had a feeling that Hanzo Shimada was namecaller-in-chief within the confines of this particular castle. He tried hard not to imagine the brothers as children, playing kiddy games and calling out innocent insults and silly nicknames as they ran through the halls.  _ Ain’t no way  _ that _ guy’s ever uttered a damn chuckle, _ he mused to himself of Hanzo as he slid to the floor next to Genji’s doorway. 

Silent still, Genji shut his phone off, the light of the thing bringing on an unwelcome sort of pounding behind bloodshot eyes. He again found himself ignoring the cowboy and his comment, and thinking instead about the personal issues that plagued him. This bodyguard thing simply wouldn’t do. _ What a nuisance _ .

Fortunately for Genji, McCree was thinking the same thing. The young Shimada was going to be troublesome. Of course, Jesse had read his file before leaving. Reyes wouldn’t have let him out of the base if he couldn’t recite the young man’s entire known history by heart. He knew the kid was troubled, but this was ridiculous! The cowboy continued hashing through the events of that afternoon, picking apart, second by second, the exchange between the two brothers, their body language, the swiftness of departure.

There was no doubt in his mind that Hanzo was off meeting with other leaders of various  _ yakuza _ clans. What were they called, traditionally?  _ Oyabun _ ? Either way, by what he knew of gang activity in Japan--which wasn’t much, admittedly, but certainly more than most, given his profession--Hanzo Shimada was doubtlessly the youngest person at that table. 

This would put him at a disadvantage, seniority-wise. As far as Jesse knew, the  _ yakuza _ still operated in a very traditional manner. That would also explain the Shimada brothers’ strict upbringing and their mannerisms--well, Hanzo’s anyway. Conversely, due to his age, Hanzo would likely be underestimated and McCree had a feeling that was a fatal mistake. He made a mental note to  _ never _ do that. Something about the way the elder dragon carried himself was menacing to the American, despite the man’s diminutive size. 

Then he recalled the prosthetics. He had not actually  _ seen _ these, but observed their presence by the way Hanzo walked. Clearly, they were finely crafted, for there was no stiffness in his gait. But something about his movements wasn’t entirely  human. It was somehow beyond human… above, perhaps. Or beneath. Either way, everything about Hanzo Shimada screamed dangerous. It was alluring, which might have been a problem if his younger brother wasn’t such a puzzle himself. 

Genji was perhaps a year younger than Jesse, but his maturity level was that of a high schooler, it seemed. Gazing into the young man’s eyes, the cowboy could tell he’d seen a lot. Perhaps the apparent lack of an adult thought pattern was a smokescreen. The Blackwatch agent had the green-haired fellow pretty well figured for a mite deeper than he let on. He wasn’t just a pretty face and he certainly wasn’t stupid. 

The younger Shimada brother  _ was _ , however, a privileged brat who might have known harsh training, but not hardship. He had always been protected by the safety net of his family fortune, his brother, his training, and--once upon a time--his parents. Now they were gone and he seemed to be spiralling, acting out in all the ways a much younger person might have. McCree felt like a glorified babysitter…

On the other hand, the young  _ ninja _ was exceptionally skilled. He had to be. His family was a clan of assassins, spanning generations and hundreds of years of honed skill. He was the most unique human being Jesse had ever met, in his estimation, and he’d met some wild characters, both in his Deadlock days and running with the Blackwatch crew.  _ Don’ wanna be on his bad side in a fight _ , the cowboy decided. He honestly didn’t know if he could defend himself against the young Shimada, if things turned that direction. And if he  _ could _ , he certainly stood no chance against Hanzo. Best to keep himself in their good graces, head down, mouth shut--this was the mission, after all. He was to gather intel, report back and return unscathed. That last one was from Commander Morrison. He had a feeling Reyes echoed it, though he wasn’t as apt to express such a thing verbally.  _ No seas estúpido, _ he’d have said.  _ Don’t be stupid _ . Jesse could hear it…and  _ piensa antes de actuar _ .  _ Think before you act _ . 

With a long sigh, he slid down the wall, elbows resting comfortably on his knees, ready for an all-night vigil. 


	5. breach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Let us welcome our uninvited guests."

Gunfire rattled against the stonework and wooden beams outside. Jesse could only cringe and picture the wood splintering, the stone fragmenting and tossing debris this way and that, sharp and dangerous. Peacekeeper settled, warm and comfortable, in his right hand. Genji was with him and safe.

They were lucky Hanzo was away on business, but McCree hadn't been granted access to his schedule, so there was no telling when he’d be back. Better if he waited a while; this place would be in shambles if he returned too soon and how in the world was the new bodyguard to explain _that_ to the head of the Shimada- _gumi_?

The attack had turned into a siege, the enemy pushing them further and further into the confines of Shimada Castle, right in the center of Hanamura--in the dead of night, with no moon.

" _Ninja_ tactic," he muttered, keeping a hand on Genji's chest to ensure the man was behind him, crouched, heart thudding.

The young man stayed close to the ground, less than a foot behind his bodyguard, blistering with frustration that he and the Shimada household guard had allowed the intruders get so far. What clan were they from? Their faces were covered and not a single one had made a sound. Yagami, perhaps? Kusanagi? What other ancient clan had such stealth, such power. Risk of humiliation and endangerment prevented him calling Hanzo, though he _did_ consider it. Genji had been so distracted and put off by the manner of Hanzo’s leaving, he didn’t even think to ask when his brother would return.

"Get back," Jesse hissed, pushing on Genji's chest as a flurry of gunfire nattered over their heads, knocking some wood splinters onto the brim of his ever-present hat. He ducked a little lower and tried his damnedest to ascertain the positioning of the enemy. He couldn't do much with a six shooter and no idea where to point it, after all. "Why aren't you in the panic room?"

"Because I can still fight," the green-haired _ninja_ hissed. "I'm not about to let the enemy take the castle." If only he had just a few shuriken… Even one could tip the odds in their favor. "What about you, cowboy? Why aren't you killing anybody yet? Some bodyguard _you_ are."

"Can't kill what I can't see," responded the black-ops agent evenly. "Can you?"

Genji was most comfortable when he was chatting amiably and it was Jesse's goal to relax the young man, soothe him enough that he wouldn't feel the need to jump out and do anything stupid where bullets could reach him. They were pinned, however, and cornered from the look of it. The Shimada household guard fell left and right and things were looking grim. His hand slipped down to his belt for the single flashbang he had left on him and contemplated perhaps the most dangerous idea he'd had since he arrived in Hanamura.

Hearing his men dying one by one was only serving to frustrate the young Shimada, however soothing Jesse’s chatter might have been. Battered with survivor’s guilt, just like when his parents had departed this world, Genji felt the overwhelming urge to do something, anything. But what was that saying? Don't bring a knife to a gunfight? He didn’t have many options, so he took the safest one, which was to sit back, teeth gritted, grip tightening to a painful vice around the handle of _Ryuu-ichimonji_. Sharp eyes were settled on his bodyguard. He had no choice but to trust the last man standing between himself and certain death, or worse.

Jesse tensed momentarily after another volley. The pause was longer this time. Enough of the men were reloading that he could, if he played this right, take a shot now, risk it all. Oh, he could hardly believe he was doing this, in deep cover, defending _yakuza_ from _yakuza_ , but who was he to judge, really?  
“Don’t move,” he warned, tilting his head just enough to look over one shoulder. The aperture of one pupil was visibly contracting, taking on an almost otherworldly, red glow. He rolled around the corner, exposing himself completely for a few horrid seconds before whipping his last flashbang. Genji heard the sounds of a few soldiers shouting and clamoring for weapons, but nothing could have prepared Genji for what came next. Before he could speak, McCree’s voice seemed to boom throughout the wide chamber, echoing against ancient wood and stone that had seen many rulers come and go from this world and the next. “It’s high noon…”

Genji hadn’t time to wonder just what in the hell the American was doing as his thoughts were wiped blank by the deep rumble of the cowboy's words. His eyes glued themselves to the foreigner as his face flushed, all the way to the ears. This was hardly the time for arousal, but that old Western line had his cock doing something of a samba. _How inappropriate_ , he admonished himself.

“Draw!” Came the final, harshly snapped command from McCree's lips as he fanned the hammer of his six-shooter and gunned down every target, no muss no fuss. All Genji could see from his angle was the cowboy’s perfect form, those thick thighs tensed with the positioning he’d taken and the lightning fast motion of the man’s hand upon the rear of his weapon. Upon hearing gunshots, however, the _ninja_ instinctively tensed, squeezing his eyes shut, the action and sound coming at different times, baffling him. Had McCree been shot? When it all went quiet, he cracked an eye open and looked again to the cowboy. Who was, surprisingly, not full of holes, so he dashed forward to take a peek around the corner.

"Unbelievable...they--they’re all..." The young Shimada stammered. McCree had killed them all, in one go. Six men lay, blood pooling beneath their heads, limbs twisted at boneless angles, having fallen where they stood, dead before the ground met them. After a long pause, Genji picked his jaw up off the floor and stood up to inspect the cowboy. "Remarkable."

“Good thing there were only six,” McCree grunted, his towering legs giving way underneath him as a singularity of exhaustion opened up within, swallowing any energy he had left. His heart was pounding, pulse racing, vision swimming.

“Now I see the cowboy hat isn't just an odd fashion choice.." Genji hummed, sparing a glance at all six bodies, lined up almost neatly, as if Jesse had planned this. The _ninja_ couldn’t help but imagine how much simpler his life would have been if he’d been able to choose something other than this _yakuza_ life. "Will you be all right?"

Through the haze of dizziness and exhaustion, McCree made out Genji’s voice and the sounds of shouting in the distance. More Shimada men? Hopefully, because he hardly managed to form a single syllable of the word “peachy” when his vision tunneled completely and the floor came up to meet him.

It took the green-haired man just a blink to catch his cowboy. His hat, not so much, but the _ninja_ took care to grab it, as well, tossing it on his head for safe-keeping. Genji couldn’t help but consider just how cool the hat itself _was_ , and how he'd been wanting to wear it since the tall, thick American sauntered into their castle--and his heart, if he was being honest. But enough of that, he had to get McCree to a safe place and quickly. There was a door leading directly to the undercroft and it was toward this Genji made to aim, assuming those approaching weren’t friendly. _With my luck, how_ could _they be?_

Rather than tossing McCree over his shoulders, as he was inclined to do, however, the _ninja_ shifted his grip and looped one arm under the tall man’s knees, the other behind his back. It was a considerable weight, but the Shimada had been blessed with rigorous training since birth. It would be easier to set Jesse down if he had to do so quickly.

“Shimada- _sama_ !” It was one of the household guards, likely an auxiliary division, alerted when alarms around the complex were tripped. A pity they’d gotten here so late, else they too would have been witnesses to whatever awesome display of power McCree had used to save both of them. Genji was absolutely going to grill his bodyguard for _that_ secret, as soon as he woke up.

“Sweep the complex,” Genji responded without turning, headed toward the private elevator that would take the two of them upward to safety. “I want any survivors found and questioned--and make it quick; Hanzo will return soon and he won’t be as kind as I!”

This they knew as a harsh truth and quickly organized a few sweeper teams, armed to the teeth and armored, unafraid of whomever they found, knowing Hanzo Shimada was more fearsome by far. Genji was also anticipating some form of punishment from his solemn brother, likely for “allowing such a thing to happen” or some nonsense. The only thing he could do to curb Hanzo’s fury was make a quick, clean sweep of their home and bring him survivors to be questioned and summarily executed for their foolishness and tidy the place up. Hanzo despised mess.

“Sugar…?” Came the quiet groan of the half-conscious cowboy as Genji settled him down in the corner of the elevator. There was no mess or blood herein, thank heavens, so the young Shimada at least _felt_ a little at ease. His bodyguard’s voice added to the calming effect, along with the nickname it carried. He liked that one.

"Will you be all right?" The _ninja_ asked again as he pressed the up button next to the elevator door, and then settled himself against the back wall. Genji crossed his arms and peeked down to the American, afraid to show too much interest. It was only when a sudden shade covered his forearms that he realized McCree's hat was still atop his own head. With a flash of red across pale cheeks, he was quick to return the thing.

McCree took it gratefully, clutching the hat like a life preserver in a storm. He did not plant it on his head, however, but simply gripped it tightly in his flesh hand, staring straight ahead, somewhere in the middle distance, as if attempting to focus. The aperture of his prosthetic eye was dilated unnaturally, giving him a blown out look. The other eye seemed to be dodging frantically about before settling in the same, thousand yard stare as its partner.

“The Dead-eye takes a lot out of a man,” rumbled Jesse, clutching the hat hard, squeezing away his own weakness. The exhaustion was obvious. Genji doubted the cowboy would have attempted a faceplant into the hardwood floor for a laugh.  
"...How did you do that?" He'd never seen a man perform such a feat. It reminded Genji of the man’s trick in the arcade, where he’d spelled his name in rapid succession by snapping the hammer of the toy weapon. The accuracy and speed was incredible--more so in real life than on some videogame--and Jesse hadn't missed a shot. Hanzo would want to hear about _this_.

“Later, Sugar,” McCree begged, vision swimming again. He clapped a hand over his eyes to stop the room’s spinning and bit back a groan, squeezing the brim of his hat once more. He could hear the pounding of his own heart in his ears, thudding against his skull, threatening to burst it. No migraine could compare with the drain of using the Dead-eye targeting system. If someone had dropped a rock on his head and crushed it then and there, he’d have thanked Mary, Jesus and any saint he could remember before reaching the pearly gates.

McCree’s response had silenced Genji and he was quiet the rest of the ride up, as to not make his bodyguard’s head throb more than it evidently was. The quietude was absolutely thick and the ride felt longer than usual, very likely due to Genji’s insatiable curiosity. A soft _ding_ alerted them to their arrival at the proper floor and the young Shimada thanked providence their ascent was finally over. He knelt down near the cowboy.

"Can you walk?" He asked quietly, raising a brow, ready to doubt any response in the positive, given the way McCree looked. Jesse grunted and moved his head side to side helplessly. He wasn’t about to play tough cowboy when he was suffering this much vertigo. The world rocked around him and he sighed heavily, the nausea abating slightly as he did so. Jesse knew his body well enough to realize the dizziness was only lying in wait.

Clearly, Jesse was going to be making much progress on his own, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Lowering himself to one knee next to the beefy bodyguard, the young Shimada ran his arm under the cowboy's knees, the other worming around his back, lifting Jesse once more. With a grunt of surprise from McCree, they were on their way out the elevator, toward his room. This time, McCree was conscious for the move and he was, in a word, impressed. _Boy’s stronger’n ‘e looks,_ the cowboy mused to himself, _gunna hafta include that in the next report_.

The cowboy-bodyguard thusly found himself transported in arms he had not figured for such strength, through the foyer of the top-level suite of Shimada tower. Genji had opted, wisely, for Jesse's room over his own, as the latter entailed a set of stairs that, strong as the _ninja_ may have been, would have made an uncomfortable squeeze for both of them. Besides, how would that have looked? As much as he wanted McCree in his bed, this was not the way to do it.

Genji toed the door to McCree's room open and stepped into the calm darkness. One would not have been able to guess, by this tableau, that they had only recently been in a gunfight for their lives. This level felt just as quiet and normal as it had when they’d returned home earlier that evening.

Genji reflected on his bratty behavior and felt a flush crawl across his cheeks once more; this one was out of pure shame. He would suffer for it, surely. The young man could already feel the beginnings of a nasty hangover as his adrenaline wore off.

He lowered the bodyguard onto his bed without a complaint, seeking to make up for himself and display his gratefulness physically, if not verbally. Doing this was the least he could perform in service to the man who had miraculously halted the invasion and saved his life. Besides, the _ninja_ didn't want Jesse to think he had trouble lifting him, after all. A Shimada was, first and foremost, master of his own body; the rest came later.

Once Genji was satisfied McCree wasn't about to fall into a coma, have some kind of seizure, or worse, the green-haired man cleared his throat, and turned to sit on the edge of the bed. It was time to call his brother. Digging out the phone he’d pocketed earlier when Jesse had roused him out of a sound sleep, it took him only a second to make the call, and hold the slim device to his ear, waiting patiently for an answer.

“ _Hai_ , Genji? What is it? I am in the middle of a very important meeting,” Hanzo snapped, brows knitting at the center of a severe, pronounced forehead. He reached up to knead the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Behind him, through a set of traditionally decorated _shoji_ was a table full of sharply-dressed businesspeople. Hanzo was clearly the youngest and feeling the pressure, jaw tight, the veins in his neck beginning to stand out.

Leaving the cowboy on the bed, Genji gave himself a minute to think of how to word this without panicking his older brother. So he stood up, walked towards the window, and stammered a bit before speaking. Genji knew better than to interrupt like this and if it was any other reason, he simply wouldn’t. Hanzo was frightening when he was upset. " _A_ _-aniki_ ... _Shiro ga kōgeki sa remashimashita_ ." _Brother, the castle was attacked_.

Behind Genji, in the darkness, McCree felt warmth and shadow pulling him in, away from consciousness. His brain fought it, hard. He had a job, after all. The cowboy was more than just a gun for hire, or a bodyguard. Jesse was Blackwatch, for pity’s sake, a professional. Master gunslinger or otherwise, however, the Dead-eye targeting system was something of a one-hit wonder. It had fried his cybernetic eye and had also succeeded in giving him a banger of a headache, vertigo, nausea and maybe bubonic plague--though that last one seemed a bit of an addled exaggeration. _Focus,_ he hissed internally, _focus on what he’s tellin’ his brother, ‘cause that could go either way for you_.

" _Boku_ _wa, karera ga ita hito, mada wakarimasen.._ " _I do not yet know who they were._ Genji continued quietly, a hand in his pocket, fidgeting nervously with whatever lint or stray arcade coins were in there. He hoped that by wording it thusly, Hanzo would get the idea that he was trying to find out, which he was, but with the urgency his harsh elder brother demanded, which he wasn’t. He was here, in the dark, with McCree, instead of out searching himself, but at least he’d delegated; Hanzo would have liked that. " _Shikashi, boku wa anzendesu_ ." _However, I'm safe_ . " _Kaubōi wa, sorera subete o koroshimashita_ ." _The cowboy killed them all._

It took every ounce of Jesse’s remaining strength to stay awake, which he did just long enough to hear his charge talk him up to his employer. _All is a bit of a stretch_ , he thought to himself, before the sandman came and stripped him of all consciousness, depositing McCree instead within a cocoon of healing only sleep could provide.

On the other end of the phone, however, things were less serene. Hanzo was livid, though his tight jaw and frantically bobbing adam’s apple were the only clues to his state of mind. He could feel his blood pressure rising. He was afraid for his brother, relieved Genji was safe, furious his home had been attacked and incensed no one had been found to blame!

“You are questioning them?” He responded in English once more, finding the concentration required to continue in a foreign tongue with clarity took away some of the focus on his rage. “Anyone left alive, I mean.”

With a short glance over his shoulder, Genji registered that his exhausted bodyguard had finally fallen asleep. As he wasn’t entire certain,  however, the younger Shimada brother continued his conversation in his native tongue. " _Fukugō-tai o sōin suru yō ni anchisukiru o meijimashita_ ." _Ordered the guards to sweep the complex_ . "Jesse-san _ichigeki de sorera subete o koroshimashita..._ " _Jesse killed them all with a single blow_.

“A single blow?” Hanzo’s voice rose a few decibels and he forced himself to calm down. What could his crazed brother possibly have meant by a single blow? Genji must have suffered cranial trauma to be saying such things. “What in the world do you--”

There was a muttering of words in the background, on Hanzo’s end of the phone and he returned to come to the point. “Never mind. We will discuss when I return. Two days. Keep me informed.”

He hung up without another word, as was often the case, brusquely tucking the device into his jacket pocket and straightening his cuffs. Hanzo returned to the conference table led by an attendant. Offering his sincerest apologies to his colleagues, he bowed deeply and insisted their business continue without further interruption.

Genji, for his part, had not even attempt to get another word in before his brother hung up. He had expected that response, however, and so was unperturbed thereby. A small part of him missed the days his brother was more available to comfort, or at least give him some closure. At this point, it was anyone's guess what Hanzo would do when he got back, though Genji had a few ideas. He understood that his brother not only had the family business to run, but also the _yakuza_ half of their empire. It was, therefore, only natural  that his older brother would often be away on business trips and unavailable to him  for casual conversation.

Then Genji remembered that he _did_ have someone available. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he made his way back across the room, toward the bed the American was currently occupying, stripping his shirt and shoes on the way. In one fluid motion, he dipped his body to slip into the covers. His movements were a whisper, befitting a _ninja_ of the Shimada clan, but his heart was a hammer.

Genji’s presence in the bed did not even succeed in stirring the cowboy, who was so far out of consciousness, the smaller fellow could have jumped around on the mattress with similar results to what he was now doing, which was edging closer to his bodyguard. Jesse’s barrel chest rose and fell steadily with abyssal sleep, his customary snore nowhere in sight, given the vastness of his exhaustion.

Genji was just about certain his bodyguard won't mind him spending the night in _his_ room. McCree was hired to stay close to him, after all. And truth be told, the younger Shimada was a bit shaken up by the attack; he did _not_ want to spend a night alone after all that. With his back to his bulky bodyguard, then, Genji settled in, making himself into as tight a ball as possible--perhaps on instinct, perhaps to become smaller in hopes Jesse wouldn’t awaken and shoo him away--and began the slow descent to sleep, despite his pounding heart and the newfound pounding in his head. Clearly, the alcohol from earlier had worn off and he was going to play host to a fantastic hangover the next day. His adrenaline drained presently and he was left feeling exhausted and helpless as sleep took him into its healing arms.

Sometime in the night, both men shifted and McCree’s big arms found their way around Genji.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We try to keep our chapters brief, 'cause we know y'all read this stuff on break at work. Oh yeah, we know. *wink wink wink* Love y'all and don' worry, we got more comin'.


	6. heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji is conflicted about what to do after the invasion, but McCree has a few ideas. 
> 
> And cleanup's a breeze.

Hours later, Jesse awoke, slowly, crawling up from the abyss of oblivion, back into the world of the living, so to speak. His room was dark and he was so very warm, sinking back into it wouldn’t have been difficult. In fact, he was sorely tempted, but for the feeling of a body pressed flush to his from behind. Evidently, Genji had crashed in  _ his  _ bed.  _ Understandable, all things considered,  _ the cowboy mused to himself,  _ but his brother better not catch us, or I’m gunna be short more than what I’m already missin’. _

Genji’s arm was tossed carelessly over McCree’s midsection, holding him in place like an iron girder. Jesse had experienced firsthand how strong those arms were, after all, so he knew even in sleep, he would not be able to escape Genji. Fortunately, his dizziness had abated after a few hours of rest, though he noticed a distinct lack of photosensitivity in one eye. In fact, it was receiving absolutely no signal. The Dead-eye system had fried it. There wouldn’t be a repair for  _ that _ until he returned to Zürich. An eyepatch wouldn’t look bad, but it would not help his shooting and if he couldn’t shoot properly, Hanzo would most certainly toss him out. A bodyguard that couldn't guard a body was worthless. This bothered the cowboy more than it should have. McCree spent the next few moments drifting between sleep and waking, half an eternity of nothingness which was really only a few minutes. 

Slowly, behind McCree, the young Shimada returned to consciousness. The cowboy was in his arms, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, very much present and alive. Sheepishly, Genji released McCree, shifting to lie on his back and stare up at the ceiling. Perhaps if he stared hard, he would awaken from the nightmare his life had suddenly become. 

The loss of those warm arms was enough to shift the balance of Jesse's nebulous state of wakeful, restless dreaming into full awareness. He heaved his first breath of truly conscious air and tilted his head to gaze sidelong at his charge.

“Didn't wanna be alone after that,” he stated, leaving the meaning in misty ambiguity, unclear as to whether he was guessing at Genji's motivation for climbing into bed with him, or if  _ he  _ had been so shaken by the previous night's events and was thanking Genji for staying with him. Turning his head to meet the gaze of the man beside him, the  _ ninja _ nodded. With his usual level of directness, McCree had hit the nail on its proverbial head, reading the young Shimada like a book. 

To Genji's nod, Jesse responded with a knowing bob of his  _ own  _ head, wordlessly expressing his understanding of that sentiment, perhaps even a shred of empathy. Being set upon in the middle of the night by a troop of  _ yakuza _ , armed to the teeth with orders to make a clean sweep of Shimada castle, anyone would have been overwhelmed, not least of all the man who ended it.

"I should have been more prepared. I could have done something... _ anything _ more..." Genji muttered softly, acknowledging that the situation lay upon his shoulders as the steward of Shimada castle while Hanzo was away. The place could have been ambushed at anytime and he would have been just as unprepared...What would Hanzo have thought of him if he were there to witness this? Outrage was a fair bet, but then, had Hanzo been here, no one would have attacked in the first place. Genji’s mood was dropping at the same rate as his gut, chilling over into a ball of ice and resting within him. 

McCree knew what he  _ wanted _ to say, but also knew he had to play the ignorant foreigner. He understood Genji’s dismay and knew enough about Hanzo to understand the source. The consequences might come down hard on his young charge, no matter what he’d done to remedy the situation. 

“I got a feelin’ once you turn up the motive behind all this, your brother’ll forgive an’ forget,” Jesse offered gently. Genji’s poor, foolish bodyguard really didn’t know his brother, did he? Gritting his teeth, the  _ ninja’ _ s gaze strayed off into the distance, anywhere but the cowboy’s sincere, doe brown eyes. 

"Well... perhaps when we were young boys... But that is not how my brother works."

Clearly, Genji would not be convinced otherwise. He knew his brother better than McCree, of course, but Jesse didn’t see Hanzo flying into a rage as soon as he returned. The way the cowboy saw it, Hanzo would be pleased his brother did not  _ lose _ the castle, or his life. The latter reflected well on McCree, too. 

“Look,” he reasoned, “someone’s gotta be left alive and right about now, one o’ yer guys is squeezin’ for information. We’ll know whodunit by the end o’ th’ night. Bet on it.”

"If you are so sure about that, perhaps I should head downstairs and see if they've apprehended anyone,” said Genji, though he didn't move a muscle. Lying here was much more appealing than having to face whoever was trying to kill him mere hours ago. He was no stranger to waking up next to good looking men, after all; this was his element. 

When Genji didn't move, McCree wondered if his resolve was wavering, fluctuating back to its former state of surety that Hanzo would flay him alive once he returned from a business conference Jesse was sure doubled as a  _ yakuza _ summit.  _ Great balls of fire,  _ McCree's mind chirped with sudden epiphany,  _ bet if we find out who's at that summit, we find out who was  _ here. 

“Genji,” whispered Jesse, as if someone might have been listening, “do you know what clans are in attendance… y’know, at th’conference?”

When his bodyguard began whispering, Genji turned his head toward the man. That was an oddly pointed question, the answer to which he did not know, since he was not the businessman of the two and Hanzo did his best to keep his younger brother out of anything dealing directly with  _ yakuza _ . 

"I would.. have to ask Hanzo. Why?"

“Well…” Jesse mumbled, mulling over his train of thought aloud as he formulated how best to put his idea forward without seeming like he knew too terribly much about Japanese mob dealings. He was hired under the pretense that he knew of the Shimada- _ gumi _ and vaguely about their business--as much as anyone outside the family might--but that was it. He wasn’t supposed to know, or understand much, if anything, about the inner workings of  _ yakuza _ clans. “Chances are… if that meeting’s got some high-level  _ yakuza _ types… and… he’s the youngest leader-type, y’know, they might be… a li’l sour.”

"You mean.." Genji’s thoughts were a roar, so he quieted his own voice to counteract it, forcing himself to think on that for a moment. "That makes sense..." He rolled over, his back to McCree, reaching across the narrow gap to the man’s nightstand for his phone. The screen engaged when he picked it up, but Genji paused, hesitance entwining itself throughout him, like a fine mesh, choking his entire being. "I can't call him without news on the attack.. He wants me to keep him updated. I can't call him and let him know I have done nothing since last night..."

“So,” concluded McCree, “let’s get downstairs and find out what information your guys’ve gathered.”

Jesse hadn’t realized they’d slept so long. Dawn was breaking over the far horizon; he could see her rosy fingers piercing the veil of his curtains and reaching over the floor toward the bed. She was a fickle mistress, sometimes bringing warmth and good news and other times...well he’d just have to hope it was the former. 

"Right,” Genji grunted, filled with new resolve. McCree’s words had stirred something within him, beyond the desire to simply please Hanzo. He sat himself up, throwing his legs off the edge of the bed. Leaning forward to gather his discarded clothing, his back was exposed completely to the cowboy’s one-eyed view. The spears of morning light that had lanced their way through the gap between McCree’s heavy curtains fell on a peculiar tattoo, positioned between Genji’s hips on his lower back. 

“Now that’s some charming ink, Sugar; when’d ya get it?” Jesse was fighting laughter as he read the words ‘save a horse; ride a cowboy’ emblazoned upon pale flesh in a stylized, old western font. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the mirth bubbling up inside him.

It took only a moment for Genji’s apprehension to kick and realize to what McCree was referring. Once he  _ did  _ understand, he grabbed the sheets and pulled them close to cover himself up. His face went red as he began drowning in his own ill-fated choices. 

"It--It was a long time ago..." Genji’s attempted justification was barely above a weak whisper. 

“Don’t take much t’get rid o’ that sorta ink,” Jesse pointed out, cheeky. He sat up and reached forward, grasping the sheets and tugging at them. “C’mon, Sugar; lemme take another look.”

"I simply... haven't given removing it much thought." 

It wasn’t as though Genji could use the excuse he was too busy, now that his bodyguard had experienced his lifestyle firsthand. Jesse would never have fallen for that. He may have  _ looked  _ the part of an ancient, down-home cowboy, but there was an intelligence under all that fuzz and muscle that would have set Genji’s nerves on edge, were it employed by someone other than his family. Anyway, the answer he’d given hadn’t been a lie, per se. He really  _ hadn’t  _ considered removing it, because deep down, he still liked it. 

“Don’ mind th’ view,” McCree followed up, propping himself on one elbow. His flannel shirt was disheveled and he was bruised, but the light shining behind him gave his chestnut hair a kind of hazy halo, with what little filtered through the cracks of his window coverings. It took no more than a peek over his shoulder at the cowboy to make Genji reconsider his plans for the morning. 

"I suppose... it can wait a bit longer..." The green-haired ninja said innocently, as he dropped the clothes he picked from the floor and looked away to set his phone back on the nightstand. His profile pleased the cowboy more than Jesse thought it probably should have. Rule number one on a mission like this: don’t get attached.  _ You saved him ‘cause it was yer job and you work for Gabe Reyes, not Hanzo Shimada--the interests align, nothin’ more,  _ he reminded himself. That being said, there was nothing wrong with playing your part well. 

“C’mere, Sugar. I ain’t blind… I see the way y’been lookin’ at me.”

Genji wasn't about to deny the obvious, of course, so he brought his legs back up onto the bed, scooting himself closer to McCree. He’d had so many partners in the past, the young Shimada was baffled as to why making a move here suddenly seemed so damn difficult. Jesse was just another man, another potential notch in his belt--several, if he played his cards right. So what was stopping him? 

Jesse leaned forward and, using the hand that wasn’t supporting his body, caressed the side of Genji’s face. The flesh was soft, inviting, perhaps a bit warm due to being recently curled under blankets, or perhaps an ill-timed blush. He moved his thumb back and forth a little, before allowing his hand to slide downward along Genji’s jaw, his throat, his collarbone, finally coming to rest on his chest, right over his heart. It was pounding. Amazing. The infamous Shimada playboy was  _ nervous _ .

The last thing Genji needed was for McCree to  _ know _ he had such an effect on him, though his heartbeat had likely given it away. At least he could control any verbal cues a shaking voice might give. To keep from stammering or shaking, Genji remained still and quiet, leaving Jesse to continue--and continue he did. That mischievous hand proceeded to explore, cupping Genji’s pectoral with the vigor of a limb that was accustomed to grasping something much harder. The calloused pad of the cowboy’s thumb found its target, one pert nipple, and began rolling, gently. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hanzo’s voice was intoning something like “so predictable,” but in the forefront, there was only an aching pleasure as McCree pinched him and then soothed the pain with the pad of his thumb. A lazy smile spread across Genji’s face. He sucked on his lower lip and hummed. 

“How long will you keep  _ this _ up?” Genji queried, popping one eye open after a few more moments of the rubbing. 

“I could do it f’r hours, Sug’,” said Jesse quietly, turning the drawl up to Molasses-Level Sticky-Sweet, “but I’ve got a feelin’ you want some’n more’n just a little teasin’.”

“Once again, you read me like an open book, cowboy… I’m _almost_ impressed.” Genji said softly, peeking out of one eye to meet Jesse’s. Of course he’d want more than teasing. What sort of _playboy_ would he be if he’d done nothing but _that_ the whole time? “ _Watashi ga motto hoshī…_ ” _I want more._

Excellent. Genji wanted more. Of course, McCree forced himself to pretend he did not  _ know _ this and slowed the circle of his thumb, cocking his head and raising a brow. Out of talented lips slipped the most subservient purr of a sentence he’d ever uttered. 

“I’m sorry, Mister Shimada--could I beg ya t’repeat that? Maybe in English? I ain’t much fer...learnin’ languages at this juncture.”

The purr of the cowboy's voice sent a shiver down the young man's spine. Just as it did when he'd done that... whatever it was, the night before. The Dead-eye was what McCree had called it. 

"I didn't think I spoke too quickly," Genji quipped, but he supposed he could play along. "I want more..."

“Jus’ tell me when, Sugar,” the cowboy rumbled, pressing his mouth to Genji’s jaw. He kissed here and there, trailing down to his neck and collarbone. The poor man tasted of adrenaline and salt from the exertion. It was the most savory taste the cowboy had ever had the pleasure of suckling, lapping and nibbling at. Soon, his mouth replaced his fingers, continuing their slow, aching work. 

Panting and moaning softly behind a hand cupped over his own treacherous mouth, Genji watched the cowboy through half-lidded eyes, pleased and aroused by the way Jesse was looking at him, like he was a meal and simultaneously made of porcelain. His opposite hand came up to run through Jesse's hair and grab a fistful, unaccustomed to things starting up so slowly. With every partner he’d ever had, they’d jumped right into it, bed rocking, headboard slamming the wall unceremoniously. Something about this felt right.

“I can work a lot o’ magic, Mr. Shimada,” Jesse assured his charge, “but I ain’t doin’ a thing without yer say-so.”

This was his way of prodding Genji to reveal what he  _ really  _ wanted. McCree didn’t expect the young Shimada to reveal  _ all  _ of his wild, secret kinks as it was only their first romp, but the closer he could work himself to the core of this family, the better information he could glean and Blackwatch was counting on him.  _ Never mind them,  _ he mused, his subconscious taking on the familiar, grating tone of his commander, Gabe Reyes,  _ you’re here to please  _ me _. Don’t forget it, cabron.  _ Funny choice of slang, given his current situation. 

"Show me then,  _ Sugar _ ," Genji urged. Clearly, he was ready for anything. The cowboy was doing an excellent job working him up. He succeeded in calling attention to this by removing his hand from his mouth and bringing it down to palm at himself through his pants. His lips hung open enough to gasp a little when Jesse's fingers and mouth moved. 

McCree bit his lip and pressed his forehead into the crook of Genji’s neck, mumbling a purr of appreciation. He slid his hand down the young Shimada’s body, drinking in the rapid rise and fall of the man’s chest, the gooseflesh rising where he touched, the heat of Genji’s skin. Batting the green-haired fellow’s hand, he grasped Genji firmly, running his thumb in a slow circle where he felt the swollen cock head. 

At the sudden contact, Genji bit his lip, sighing noisily. The hand in the cowboy's hair loosening up to run his fingers up Jesse's head, his  _ own _ head turning so his face was partially buried in the cowboy’s hair. This was something he could get used to, if McCree was willing to keep playing with him. It was a game, after all. Always a game.  _ Oh, but this game feels so good _ , purred Genji’s inner monologue, dissolving into incoherent groans as the pressure from McCree’s hand increased. 

“Tell me what you want,” rumbled the bodyguard, tilting his face up to meet Genji’s lips briefly. His shirt had come undone, the buttons having loosened themselves while he slept, so a deep ‘V’ of his fuzzy chest was visible. If sultry had been an olympic sport, at that moment, McCree would have taken gold--in Genji’s book, anyway. He had seen plenty a chest, but for some reason, this view was by far his favorite.

Everything had become a blur when Jesse looked up at him like that. His fuzzy chest.. messed up hair... undone shirt… it was almost too much. The half-lidded way the green-haired young man was watching him told the cowboy all he needed to know about what Genji liked and what he wanted, but he needed to hear it, every step of the way. 

"I want you..." Was all he could mutter, the pressure against his loins didn't help out either. Jesse purred a response that could have been “careful what you wish for, Sugar,” but was lost in the haze of pleasure as he began rubbing Genji’s cock through his pants, groaning quietly into the man’s ear to accentuate the activity going on between his thighs. Genji wasn’t sure what Jesse could have meant by that, but he was getting exactly what he wanted, so there’d be no complaints from him. He grasped greedily at the back of McCree’s shirt and spread his legs for the cowboy, inviting him forward.

Jesse took that invitation gratefully, replacing his hand with his denim-clad groin. He pressed his hips forward and rolled against Genji, who was already making a mess of his pants. The heat built inside McCree as well, though much of it was due to his charge’s reactions to everything he was doing. Genji was like a musical instrument, meant to be plucked, caressed and prodded with the intent of making noise. It didn't take much of that at all for Genji to roll his head back, a grin on his face, humming as he spoke. " _...totemo ookii... _ "  _ So big _ . He was impressed, excited, a little nervous and losing all those emotions at once to the arousal that would not leave him, pooling in his lower stomach and radiating outward to all his limbs. 

“Like I said,” McCree repeated, his fingers finding their way to the waistband of Genji’s pants, tugging a little. “Careful what you wish for.” 

Genji had done the courtesy of removing most of his clothes before sliding in next to McCree. A loose pair of shorts were all that stood in Jesse’s way. He prayed Genji’s arousal would cover his momentary lapse, as he’d just replied to a sentence that had not been English in the slightest. Maybe Genji would assume he was using context. McCree crossed his mental fingers and kicked himself. Reyes would have his ass if he messed this up, to say nothing of what Hanzo might do. 

Fortunately for Jesse, Genji thought nothing of it, as he was much too excited to see where this was going, given his new partner's size. His grip on McCree shifted to instead fold his hands behind Jesse's neck. 

"This doesn't change anything, I think we'll have plenty of fun..." Looking the cowboy in the face a short moment, his eyes then went straight downward. McCree licked his lips, which were suddenly a bit dry, as was his throat. Genji's voice had dropped at least an octave into a low growl, laced with desire and excitement. It stirred the cowboy who reached between them once more, this time slipping his hand past the elastic of Genji's shorts to grasp bare flesh. 

As the cowboy groped at him, Genji turned his face to nestle it against Jesse's, which was much fuzzier in comparison and everything he wanted right now. He sighed shakily in Jesse's ear, but couldn't move things forward as it was hard to move his hips in his position. The cowboy had a solution, beginning to gently stroke Genji's most intimate flesh. He didn't want to push full-on intercourse the first time, given how exhausted they both were. Jesse was very content making his charge come in his pants, however. It was a devious move that would leave Genji wanting more and keep him close, which would also keep him safe, as they had no guarantee the castle wouldn't be attacked again. As the cowboy began moving, the younger man bit his lip. Things sure were going slower than he was used to, but it made his predicament all the sweeter. Lucky for him, this wouldn't be some one-time thing, no, he had McCree all to himself. 

"Jesse..." Genji moaned. The cowboy loved the way his name spilled carelessly from soft lips, as if Genji had been trying to hold it in, but the urge overtook him and he could not keep himself together any longer. 

“Oh, say that again, Sugar,” he rumbled, running his tongue around the outside of Genji's ear. Without another thought, Genji let his partner's name spill once more, with a little more volume and force this time, panting it over and over as the cowboy continued to get him off. He could already feel the familiar heat building in the pit of his stomach.

Genji was obliging when McCree's hand was on him, working him into a tizzy with expert pressure, backing off when the timing was right and then squeezing again, just to get a shuddering moan or a choked squeal. This job wasn't so bad after all. He could almost hear his parents rolling their eyes, not so much with disapproval, but exasperation. But they understood this was his job. Hell,  _ they'd  _ sent him.

It wasn't long before Genji found himself close, rolling his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. Muttering things here and there like “... _ kami...hai-- _ J-Jesse _ ” _ and other obscenities.

Each utterance and groan of approval was fuel for the cowboy's fire. He brought Genji just what the doctor ordered and a little extra, relief of tension after a terrifying night and some intimacy McCree sensed was much-needed. His own britches had tightened considerably since the beginning of all this, but he chalked it up to a natural response. He'd been stressed, tired out, and scared; it was natural that, in the presence of Genji's writhing and moaning, Jesse would get a little hard. To that end, he groaned appreciatively in Genji's ear, muttering something woefully obscene that neither would remember in a few minutes. 

Genji responded by slapping a hand over his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his tongue. He was so painfully close, but was he really going to let himself make a mess in his pants? "J-Jesse..."

Like lightning, McCree tugged Genji's shorts down to his upper thighs, exposing him to the open air. He kissed quickly, almost savagely down the length of Genji's body until he reached the man's cock. He grasped it once more, this time slipping his lips down over the head. Jesse wasn't about to humiliate Genji their first time; he had no idea what the poor man was into, but getting a feel for it was going to be enjoyable.

The young Shimada hadn't expected anything like  _ that _ , the heat or the slick, firm contact down his length. The sight of Jesse's full mouth and the contact made him bite his lip and arch his back, grasping helplessly at the sheets. For half a moment, he wished for his phone, so he could capture this moment, maybe save it for later. 

Presently, his vision went white and with one more strained moan, Genji came. Jesse took it like a pro, swallowing every bit and sliding off with a satisfied grin on his handsome face. He was hard as a rock, but Genji was sated and for now, that would do. Backing off the bed and standing, the cowboy stretched for the ceiling, his shirt pulling up over his lower abdomen. 

“With yer leave, Sugar,” he purred, excusing himself with his usual charm. He gestured toward the attached bathroom, intending to shower up and change. “But ah… stay here, a’right?”

Genji had already melted into the bedding when Jesse got up, undulating bonelessly with the movement. His eyes fell shut, satisfaction written on every inch of his body. He flopped over to the side, still trying to catch his breath. 

"...Right, sure,” Genji said breathily, he didn't exactly plan on moving for the next twenty or so minutes, anyway. His cock was hanging out, lying against his lower abdomen, thoroughly stroked, sucked and spent. He made no move to correct this obscene sight. Jesse didn't mention it, either, rather enjoying the view as he retreated into the half-bath. 

_ Maybe this whole bodyguard thing wasn't such a bad idea after all _ , Genji thought, a Cheshire grin resting on his face. He made a note to thank Hanzo later. But for the moment, he was going to relax, because after this, he had work to do.

As the door closed behind Jesse, he began disrobing, shirt first, then belt and jeans, the denim sliding down, rubbing almost painfully at his erection. The cowboy could still picture Genji in his mind's eye, on his back, thighs spread, aching and groaning and arching with every little touch. He grabbed himself almost roughly, wondering what the young Shimada’s fingers felt like in that same position. Would Genji think of  _ him _ when he was alone?  _ I do my job and he won't  _ be  _ alone _ .

On the other side of the door, feeling was beginning to return to Genji's limbs. Once the gelatinous sensation receded, he took a moment to tug his pants back up and tuck himself back in. He was getting cold lying there, on Jesse's bed, sweaty and exposed. It was wonderfully erotic, but hardly productive; Hanzo would’ve absolutely disapproved and, had it not been for the circumstances, Genji would have stayed, just because Hanzo would’ve hated it. But these were dangerous times. His home had been assaulted. Information needed gathering. 

Satisfied with his presentation, Genji laid himself on his back and spread his limbs out, sighing noisily and thinking of his bodyguard, only a few yards away behind a door. He arched his back and stretched, limbering his joints. Next time, he would be sure to come prepared. The double entendre didn't escape Genji and he laughed, really let himself chuckle for the first time since the previous evening’s attack. 

“See what yer men might’ve dug up from las’ night,” Jesse suggested from the other side of the door. He was leaning on the countertop, watching his face in the mirror, picturing Genji behind him, grasping him, stroking and squeezing and teasing him. It was going to take a miracle to keep his voice down, so instead of relying on an act of God, the cowboy slapped a hand over his mouth and grunted into  _ it _ , instead. Opening his eyes to peek towards the attached bathroom, Genji sighed.  _ Right, work. _

" _ Hai, hai _ ..." His admission was grudging,  _ yes, yes _ , of course McCree was right. Hanzo may have hired him primarily because of his looks and his exact fit into the tropes and fantasies Genji hadn’t exactly worked very hard to keep hidden, but Jesse was hardly stupid. The head of the Shimada clan had no intention of putting his brother’s life in the hands of an ingrate. 

In fact, McCree was starting to  _ sound  _ like Hanzo, but if he didn't want the  _ actual  _ Hanzo at his throat, he had better do just that. Sitting up slowly, he savored the moment and gathered his clothes. Piece by piece, he began to dress himself. Casually, he left his socks and shoes behind, planning on simply padding about the castle in his bare feet.  _ Time to work,  _ he thought to himself as he passed the threshold of McCree’s doorway,  _ but I’m going to be comfortable.  _ A final thought occurred to Genji as he was exiting the room and he snatched up the cowboy’s hat, planting it firmly upon his mussed green hair. With that, he was ready to face the day. Remarkable what an article of clothing could do for one’s confidence. 

Jesse heard the door close behind his charge and immediately began stroking himself more forcefully. He just wanted to come and he was rock hard; it shouldn’t have taken long, but for that stupid, nagging voice at the back of his head.  _ Careful, par’dner--don’ get too involved _ , it whispered menacingly,  _ y’all know what happens. Heartbreak and pain.  _ He persisted through it, grasping and squeezing almost violently, pressing his thumb hard upon the slit and groaning low in his throat as he squirted his load right up the mirror, marring his view and making him feel just as dirty as it always had. Old habits died hard, evidently. 

With the cowboy’s hat settled comfortably on the green-haired man’s head, Genji sauntered off toward the elevator, completely unaware of what McCree was up to and, thanks to the hat and the fantastic blowjob, not really caring. He was grinning ear to ear, due in part to post-orgasm satisfaction and the presence of the cowboy’s old, faithful hat. It smelled of leather and grease, as if it had been around far longer than even his bodyguard--a hand-me-down, perhaps? A man didn’t just dress like that for fun.

When he reached the doors of the elevator, however, Genji had shifted masks. It was time to see just who the fuck had the gall to attack his castle. They would pay, he would see to that. Lucky for him, the lift opened instantly, erasing any chance he had left for hesitance. On the way down, Genji dug his phone out, unable to resist checking his look with the other man’s hat atop his head. The view drained much of the tension from his shoulders and Genji couldn’t help flashing a big, toothy grin. _I’ve always wanted one of these,_ he thought. _What’s stopped me from getting one?_ _… probably Hanzo._

He’d only had a chance to snap a selfie when the elevator door opened, and the  _ ninja  _ put his phone away, forcing the steely professionalism once again. Stepping out with a tip of the hat, and a “howdy” to the men standing guard outside the elevator, he made his way to Hanzo’s office. He hated the idea of occupying his brother’s seat for any reason. To do so would be to give their men standards and Genji was a sandbagger extraordinaire. They might actually begin to expect him to do things like this and his stomach was churning already. No, this was not the life for him. It was just temporary. He had to prove his competence to his brother--and maybe to himself. 

Surprisingly, someone was indeed awaiting him as he entered Hanzo’s office suite. The head of the household guard had evidently been killed in the attack--a fellow named Kei Mifune--and his replacement was awaiting the Shimada head’s pleasure in the antechamber. 

“Shimada- _ sama _ ,” said the man with a deep, sharp bow. “It was my intention to await your brother, but this information ought to be given to him as soon as possible. We simply need your permission.”

Being greeted by this when he entered, the familiar twist of anxiety in his gut returned, full force, wrenching his insides as he regretted not even making an attempt at proper decorum. He would  _ definitely _ suit up to meet Hanzo, when his brother returned from his trip. Genji made a mental note to contact their tailor when this meeting was over and arrange for a suit to be made to fit McCree. 

"Do we.. know who did this..?" Genji asked softly, clearing his throat halfway through his sentence, attempting to sound uninterested and simultaneously impassioned, like Hanzo.

“Yamaguchi- _ gumi _ ,” was all the head of security said in response, the answer hanging heavily over both of them in the still air of Hanzo’s office front room. It was worse than could have been anticipated. The Yamaguchi clan was the largest, oldest  _ yakuza  _ family in Japan. They had international ties with other crime families and some even whispered the name “Talon” when they thought no one else was listening. 

"Yamaguchi... “ Genji repeated, nodding softly. He shook his head to rattle loose an inkling of what he was going to do with that information. His entire train of thought had been completely derailed with that one name. "I will tell Hanzo. Is there anything else I need to know..?"

“We are working on it, Shimada- _ sama _ ,” responded the suited man with business-like swiftness. Somewhere inside Shimada castle, a man was begging for his life. He would receive no mercy this day. Genji dismissed the guard and forced himself to hold his composure until the man was gone. It would be best to get dressed for whatever was in store, at least look the part of the interim head of the Shimada- _ gumi _ while Hanzo was unable to fill his own spot. 

His insides were jelly, his outsides were beginning to melt as well, and the entirety of his being felt as though it was in flux, just waiting for the chance to implode, explode, or both. Genji swallowed hard and sucked a deep breath, putting on a brave face for anyone who might see him, moving one foot in front of the other, deliberately taking the swiftest path back to his private elevator. He’d almost forgotten the hat was still perched atop his head until he caught a sidelong glance from one of the guards. Now, he suddenly felt foolish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since seeing fanart of this fic, we have been spurred on to bring you more bullet train! We hope you've enjoyed it so far!


	7. depth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genji is in over his head with this business, but there's still work to be done. Can he overcome his own internal struggle just long enough to imitate his beloved (and frankly terrifying) brother? And more importantly, is that the right path for him to follow? McCree watches the hatchling make his first swipes at the sky...

Upstairs, Jesse was just finishing his speedy shower. He toweled his hair off first, following the water down his body with the fluffy, terrycloth thing. He ran a hand over taut abdominal muscles and nearly indecently large pectorals. It would be a cold day in hell before he let his beautiful teats go to seed. He flexed appreciatively for himself in the mirror, preening. Despite what had occurred, McCree still forced himself to relax a little. His next report was going to be a wild one, the main concern, he sensed, might be centering around his blown ocular prosthetic.

Meanwhile, the young Shimada was on his way back up, breathing in and out as slowly and deeply as possible, wishing he had a paper bag (for vomit or hyperventilation, who could say?). The Yamaguchi- _ gumi _ was after him; how was he supposed to take that calmly? 

Then again, how did he know they had been after  _ him _ ? The politics of  _ yakuza _ were not something with which Genji was familiar, ironically. How was Hanzo going to react to this? Well, he supposed he was going to find that out soon enough. Knowing his brother was coming home, for some reason, did nothing to calm his thudding heart. The lift was moving slowly, almost painfully so and a small eternity passed before the bell chimed and the doors slid open to free him from the confined box. 

Before heading up to his own room, Genji made a point to stop back at McCree's chambers. It was the courteous thing to do, letting his bodyguard know his tentative itinerary. As was his custom, he entered without knocking, to find Jesse, stark naked, searching his closet for a proper shirt, back muscles rippling with movement.

Walking in, welcomed by such a view, Genji felt himself snapped right out of roughly 99% of his anxiety. The other 1% was sure to return with a vengeance, but for now, his thoughts were consumed. Though it was a  _ bit _ too soon to be wanting more from the cowboy, there was no harm catching a quick glance and then getting back to business. Averting his eyes, Genji shielded them with the brim of the cowboy hat, in an attempt at some modesty.  _ I’m only being polite. _ Then he cleared his throat, loud enough that surely Jesse would hear.

The cowboy did indeed register the clearing of a throat. In fact, he'd heard the young Shimada brother enter his room prior to the verbal alert. Turning halfway around, the cowboy tossed a casual “howdy” over his shoulder, before noting the tense air the surrounded Genji, and--

“I was wonderin’ where that went.”

Genji did his best to keep his eyes off Jesse, even as he took the cowboy's hat off. Holding it between his bodyguard and himself, he blocked out what, truthfully, he suddenly wanted nothing more than to see. Now was hardly the time, however and he controlled himself. 

"Yes. I had it on me as I went downstairs." Approaching McCree, Genji held the hat out, forcibly blocking the view. Jesse took it and tossed it on, more relieved than he was willing to admit with it back on his head. It had of course occurred to him how awkward it might be for his employer’s brother, his own charge, to view him in the buff this way, but sometimes shocking someone with gross immodesty was a good way to get them to loosen up.  _ No harm in tryin’ _ , he reasoned. 

“Kinda figured y’had it,” McCree admitted turning once more to search for proper undergarments. He could sense the return of Genji’s unease. The nudity hadn’t done much to distract the poor fellow. Something had happened downstairs, some piece of information had come to light about the attack, more than likely, and Genji didn’t know quite how to handle it without his brother.  _ Sparrow’s gotta walk before ‘e can fly. Seems like th’ dragon won’t let ‘im _ . 

Genji didn’t bother to stand there much longer before he cleared his throat, eyeing the cowboy up and down once more before turning. McCree had been right in his unspoken assessment. In order to inform his bodyguard of the plans for the day, he would need to let Jesse in on the revelation of the Yamaguchi clan’s involvement.  _ Not now. It can wait. He needs rest _ , Genji told himself.

“I-... I will be in my room… I need to make a call.” 

Before McCree could reply, the young dragon had excused himself, turning back to the door and leaving without another word. From there, it was just another moment’s walk up to his room. On the way, he took his phone out and dialed his dreaded older brother’s number. Hopefully Hanzo wouldn’t be in the middle of a conference proper. Genji had to talk to him--really talk. This wasn’t a one-sentence-and-done situation, not by a longshot.

Hanzo felt the device buzz in his pocket. He, too excused himself from the brunch table, heading toward the kitchens immediately when he recognized the caller. The staff didn’t make a move to stop him as the young, somber  _ oyabun _ made his way gracefully through the hustle and bustle of the food prep area and out the back door.

“Genji,” he said, without so much as a greeting. “ _ Yoi nyuusu? _ ”  _ Good news? _

Nothing in his voice, or in his body language gave away the tension that even now was eating away his insides. That Genji was safe was a blessing and a gift, but there was still the matter of just  _ who  _ had attacked their ancestral home so brazenly. 

Genji had made it into his room when Hanzo picked up and he was greeted with the cold, ever-stoic voice of his older brother, which did nothing to ease his anxiety. 

" _Aniki, sōdatta.. Yamaguchi._ _Sore wa karera ga mitsuketa subetedesu_." _Brother, it was Yamaguchi_. _That is all they found out_. He wasn’t going to leave Hanzo hanging like that, however; his brother would demand action, which he was evidently taking without lifting a finger. " _Shikashi karera wa mada joohoo no tame ni kussaku shite imasu_." _But they are still drilling for information_. As the young man spoke, he kept his gaze low, as if Hanzo was standing before him, those predatory eyes drilling into him, demanding humility. Though far from Hanamura and their home, Hanzo had a powerful hold on his darling younger brother. Genji’s chest felt tight and he fidgeted with the edge of his shirt, waiting for the head of the Shimada- _gumi_ ’s response.

“ _ Arigatoo _ , Genji. That is… helpful,” Hanzo’s voice was strangely soft as it drifted through the receiver of his device. It did not sound like a whisper, so much as the tone of a weary man who was at the very least grateful to have  _ some  _ form of answer. “ _ Sore wa yoi kotode wa arimasenga… sankoo ni narimasu… _ ”  _ It isn’t  _ good _ , but it’s helpful. _

As if he could sense the tension and fear within his brother, Hanzo restrained himself. Genji could have been killed, after all. That he was even  _ in _ the castle was an oddity. Evidently, that bodyguard of his was doing an excellent job. 

It was odd to hear Hanzo's voice soften, given how inadequate an answer Genji had offered. He had expected, even tensed himself and prepared for a raised voice. It wouldn’t have been a yell; Hanzo never yelled, as it was undignified. Genji’s hand didn't move from its tight grip on his shirt, and his eyes stayed in their place on the floor, his anxious mind whirring madly at him like the sparrow his father always assumed he would be. He tried to breathe some tension out, slowly, but that didn't do much for him. 

_ “Watashi ga shōsai o akiraka ni suru to, watashi wa kōrubakku shimasu.” I will call back when I uncover more details. _

“Thank you,” Hanzo responded in English, then added, “ _ Anata ga kinishinainara, sono otoko no ichizoku no irezumi no shashin o okutte kudasai. _ ”  _ If you wouldn't mind, please send a picture of the man's clan tattoo. _ “And please do nothing else.” He kept his tone soft and formal, indicating he required this photo, but that he was not upset with Genji, per se. It had hardly been his brother’s fault the Yamaguchi decided to make their move in Hanzo’s absence. It was a brilliant move, underhanded and unscrupulous, but smart. He would have to congratulate Uryuu Shinoda on his near-victory, perhaps as he was separating the man’s head from his body.  _ Blood for blood _ , his predatory mind rumbled,  _ and nothing less will do _ . 

" _ Hai _ ." Genji nodded.  _ Once I have the stomach to return downstairs _ , he thought to himself, stomach still a frozen stone in his abdomen. " _ Dekirudakehayaku sore o anata ni o todoke shimasu _ ." _ I will get that to you as soon as possible _ . He wondered briefly if he would have turned out as stern as Hanzo had  _ he _ been born the elder. Something inside the poor young man told him his anxiety was not something that was going to be beaten out of him anytime soon, nor would it have, were their positions reversed. For the moment, his relief came in the form of Hanzo hanging up. That was all he could have asked for and Genji exhaled a breath he’d not realized he was holding, secretly relieved Hanzo didn’t want him doing anything beyond relaying information.

“Y’seem tense, Sugar,” drawled McCree from the doorway of Genji’s room, which the young Shimada had not noticed he’d left open. “Bad news?” 

Genji’s body was taut, coiled like a spring, ready to burst, break, shatter, fall apart. Whatever the appropriate term was, the outcome would not end well for the poor, young man.

"Not exactly." He hadn't known McCree was standing there, or for how long, which was  _ foolish  _ considering he should always be aware of everything around him.  _ Hanzo would have known, would have used it to his advantage,  _ he scolded himself. Had he understood anything he said...? Would it  _ really  _ be a good idea to explain things to Jesse? 

_ I must, or else how will he do his job?  _ Genji scolded himself. Considering how to go about it, and how much information to actually  _ share _ was only adding to his stress, and the young man laid his phone on the nightstand to rub at his temples. He didn’t look at McCree, convinced that turning would reveal his every fret and worry, strings for the cowboy to pluck.

McCree understood that some things were to be left alone. He’d only heard half the conversation, in hushed, shaky Japanese, but he’d caught enough to understand that the single most powerful  _ yakuza _ clan had been gunning for Hanamura castle. He eased himself into the room, so as not to be offensive and stood near the corner of Genji’s four-poster bed. 

"It’s simply..." Now how did Genji put this without seeming like he was  _ completely  _ relying on his older brother? Looking anywhere but the cowboy, Genji's eyes wandered out the window, hands leaving his head and clutching one another uncomfortably as the young Shimada bit his lip. "...a lot to process."

“Lay it on me, Sugar,” purred the cowboy gently, approaching his charge. He settled a hand on Genji’s shoulder, gently as he could. “I was hired to protect you an’ your brother didn’t specify the extent…” 

The cowboy wasn’t wrong, Genji concluded. Besides, what would Jesse do with the information..? Sitting on the edge of his bed, Genji sighed and shook his head.

"It was... Yamaguchi that attacked last night. The biggest, most powerful  _ yakuza  _ clan in Japan..."

What more could he have said about it? That truth alone was enough to send shivers down his own spine. If the American was smart, and Genji had a feeling he  _ was _ , he would “get the hell outta dodge” as McCree himself might have actually said. 

“Then you got a lotta work ahead,” said Jesse with conviction, squeezing the young man’s shoulder. “And I have a feelin’ it’s meant to be done in a suit… so…”

He stepped back and stretched his arms out to the sides, just enough to display the dark gray material. It wasn’t anything too terribly expensive, but it had clearly been tailored to fit the cowboy’s form. Given the circumstances, Genji’s eyes did not linger long, but boy, did they want to! The hat was a nice touch; he allowed himself this admission at least and the belt buckle completed it. Jesse was clearly loathe to go anywhere without either. 

As the young Shimada enjoyed the view, he still could not shake the overhanging sensation of wrongness that now radiated throughout his body. His guts were still a shaking mess, his heart a cold stone one second and a wildly fluttering bird the next. Genji could feel himself falling apart at the seams, even as he pulled himself together, as he imagined Hanzo might do in this situation.  _ This is all I have, brother. I am sorry. _

"And I was about to call and have one made for you," the young Shimada was able to feign some sense of his previous playfulness. Bless McCree for this, at the very least. "I still might, but you look very handsome, especially the hat." 

Perhaps it was time for him to change, but first the feeling had to return to his poor legs. Hanzo had asked him to do nothing else. What did that mean? Knowing Hanzo, it meant stay out of the way, which was perfect, because at the moment, Genji’s knees were jelly and his thighs and calves, rubber. He was not yet ready to head back downstairs, in fact, his first instinct was to lie back and hope that a nap would make this all go away. 

“Sugar,” McCree whispered, “you’re gunna have t’face this, f’r yer brother, y’know? He ain’t here, so you gotta step up.”

He knew he was walking a thin line with this one. If Genji desired it, he’d be strung up, same as that Yamaguchi fella in the castle’s…. Dungeon? Did those still exist? Well, if they did, Hanamura castle  _ had _ one and it was most definitely in use. McCree had no desire to add himself to that tally. But someone had to snap Genji out of what looked a hell of a lot like a panic attack, or the aftershocks of one. 

When McCree started talking business, Genji's face grew sour, rather quickly. Sure, his voice was soft, but his words were clear. Once again, the younger man averted his eyes, looking down to his lap instead. 

"I never said I wouldn't do as Hanzo asked. A man who works for Yamaguchi- _ gumi _ does not crack easy, anyway." 

He sounded like a spoiled kid, grumpy and tense, unwilling to give the respect he was demanding with his tone. McCree wasn't phased in the least. In fact, he was of half a mind to slap some sense into his charge. 

"Not as he asks, Sugar," McCree turned his palms to face Genji in a non-threatening way (he was wearing a fine pair of black leather gloves, which the young Shimada couldn't help but notice and find very flattering, despite his distress), "but...more like, as he might do, because I'm guessing what he  _ wants _ you to do is nothing but gather info an' wait fer 'im."

"All the info I  _ can  _ gather currently is in Shimada castle, being collected as we speak," Genji insisted; he was not about to leave the comfort and safety of his home to find out more. Not after last night. “I just have to wait until my men… convince him to share what he knows.”

“Well it ain’t happenin’ up here in yer room,” responded McCree wisely. “The remainder o’ yer staff is lookin’ fer strength. That’ll be you, Sugar. I ain’t sayin’ you oughtta pull the stupid sumbitch’s fingernails out yerself, but you’ve gotta be visible.” 

McCree knew how gangs operated.  _ Yakuza _ , Mafia, Russian mob, Southwest U.S. gun-running biker outfits, they were all the same. Strength was the word. Any show of weakness and the organization pulled itself apart from within, especially if that weakness was at the head. 

Unfortunately for Genji, the reasoning was completely sound. It was enough to make him reconsider hiding away in his room. Hanzo wouldn’t have hidden from the men who’d attacked the castle; the younger Shimada felt pretty foolish at the moment. McCree was right, of course. He had to be seen by his people. They would draw strength from his presence, but the first order of business was calming his stomach. He took a deep breath and responded.

"You're... right." Genji responded weakly.  _ Yakuza  _ business or not, he was still a head of the family. "I just need a moment before I return downstairs... Please." Seeing him quaking in his shoes wasn’t going to do his household guard any good anyway. 

“Sure,” nodded McCree, retreating slowly to the doorway. “I’ll wait by th’ door ‘til yer ready.”

In proper bodyguard fashion, Jesse closed off Genji’s room and stood right next to its portal, hands clasped in front of his body, face an impassive mask. His mind was reeling, of course, assessing every word he had chosen to address his charge and Genji’s reactions. The green-haired  _ ninja _ could have had him killed for some of that--insubordination, Reyes would have called it, but Jesse got the distinct sense his place by Genji’s side had been cemented the moment he used the Dead-eye protocol. One side of his vision was still a black mist because of it, but this he was willing to endure for the mission.  _ Just the mission, _ he reminded himself,  _ an’ nothin’ else. _

Genji watched Jesse leave the room, silent as he did so until the door shut. Sighing heavily again, the young Shimada folded his hands, giving himself a minute to attempt mental preparation for what he was about to do. He just needed a picture of the man's tattoo, some answers, and he could leave again, all whilst keeping his composure around his body guard.  _ Not so simple, _ he groaned internally. But there was no way to move other than forward, so he stood and walked to his closet, stripping yesterday's clothes as he went. The sweaty, stale-smelling garments ended up in a pile near the foot of his bed. He wondered if the Yamaguchi men had slaughtered the cleaning service as well. Genji shuddered to think of what the rest of the castle must have looked like after last night’s assault. Hanzo would have strode through the halls, surveying it all, cataloguing it and filing the gore and blood away for a later date’s vengeance. 

He dressed himself with purpose, casually, but kempt. Ducking into his private bathroom for a moment, he tossed his hair just so and forced a handsome smile into the mirror. He was going to do this, follow Jesse’s advice, perform above and beyond Hanzo’s expectations, but he was going to do it  _ his _ way. One more deep breath and he was out the door. Passing McCree without a word, he offered the cowboy a simple gesture to follow.

If Genji was  _ this  _ convincing in casual clothing, McCree feared the young man in a suit. He followed, obedient, subservient, mesmerized. Something about Genji’s demeanor had changed, galvanized. He had become a dragon, or was clawing his way that direction. Jesse was impressed.  _ Hanzo was groomed fer this, but Genji’s gunna hafta fight for it. _

Hands deep in his pockets, Genji was quiet the whole walk to the elevator, shielding himself with confidence he did not truly possess.  _ If you cannot muster the courage, convince your enemy otherwise, or the battle is lost,  _ Genji internally reminded himself, quoting his stoic brother’s advice of days past. Pushing the down button, he stepped in the second the lift opened.  _ Jesse is right. I can do this, _ he thought, brushing his brother's words aside in favor of McCree's much warmer prodding.  _ This shouldn't be hard. I am master of this castle and someone has entered  _ my  _ domain and killed  _ my  _ men. Unacceptable. _

Genji exuded a fierceness that he had not previously possessed. McCree sensed its authenticity, even when the young Shimada did not. The confidence and competence was there, buried beneath years of condescension from his father and brother and the natural urge to shirk responsibility and drown anxiety in booze, games, drugs and sex. For some reason, watching the young man blossom brought a swell of pride to the cowboy and a flush to tawny, freckled cheeks. Genji was far from done growing, but he was making powerful strides this day.

Genji watched Jesse, looking the cowboy up and down as the elevator began its descent. He had always kept a close handle on his emotions, hiding them behind the steel wall of his psyche, constructed through years of denial. He’d allowed McCree to see too much already and knew Hanzo would scold him for that, assuming his bodyguard was reporting to his brother--he most likely  _ was _ \--and assuming Hanzo would not guess, the moment he walked in the door, that Genji had almost fallen apart. That was shameful enough as a private thought, but having it tossed back in his face by his harsh, stern brother… the younger Shimada could hardly bear the thought. It nauseated him. He swallowed thickly as the lift came to a halt and they both stepped off, McCree following him wordlessly, until the cowboy noticed they were not headed toward Hanzo’s office.

“Thought we were sittin’ this one out,” prodded the cowboy. He knew whatever awaited them was sure to be grotesque, cruel and, perhaps stomach-turning. The Blackwatch agent had seen this kind of thing before and had been subjected to much of it, in addition. Genji was made of softer stuff and, while McCree approved of him taking an active role, he’d not intended for the younger man to actually  _ see  _ what was happening to the Yamaguchi agent who’d almost killed them. 

"I need a picture of the man's tattoo," Genji said softly, eyes low, scanning the floor for blood as they walked. "Or... Hanzo needs it." 

There was no way he could get a photo without being present, obviously. It wasn’t as if he actually  _ wanted  _ to be there, but it would get that task off his plate. On the one hand, he could have ordered one of his men to get it, but McCree had stirred him to action; he was going to do this himself, in order to prove his worth as a leader. 

“Ah,” McCree nodded. So that was the half of the conversation he had been unable to catch. He filed this away for later, as well. The cowboy knew well enough the practice of tattooing within the  _ yakuza _ clans of Japan, that each gang had certain marks, sometimes hidden throughout their intricate body art that distinguished to which they belonged, but this would be the first time seeing one up close. He found it curious Genji did not bear any distinguishing marks, tying him to the Shimada- _ gumi _ . The tattoo he  _ did _ have brought a stir of heat to Jesse’s gut and he found himself smiling, despite the nagging curiosity regarding Genji’s lack of clan markings. He then began to wonder if Hanzo bore any markings to that end.  _ Dangerous road, partner _ , he reminded himself.  _ Stick to th’ mission. _

It was only when they turned down a narrow, back hallway, nestled behind a large kitchen, that McCree’s smile dropped from his lips. He had seen this on the initial tour, of course, but had never entered the wide, steel-framed door at one end. It was a service elevator, or looked to be one, with an opening large enough to bring a laundry cart through.  _ Or a man on a dang gurney, _ McCree thought to himself. As the doors closed behind him, even the lighting spoke of ominous dread and violence. He shuddered. 

“The service elevator,” said Genji, “is...eh… as much else in the grand Shimada ancestral home… not what it seems.”

He touched a small pad beneath the number grid (this indicated several floors, B1-B3, to be exact) and an uncomfortably charming tone chimed through the lift. Immediately thereafter, it began its descent. The lift was a bit creaky, as if accustomed to hauling much heavier cargo. Jesse watched the numbers above the door indicate each sub-basement, though when it passed B3, they did not stop.

“Ain’t none o’ my business,” he commented, steadying his voice, “but y’all got some kinda dungeon?”

Genji’s laugh came out dry, humorless, shakier than he’d probably intended. He tilted his gaze upward to meet McCree’s eyes and said nothing. That look was enough to answer Jesse’s question. The cowboy swallowed hard and nodded, grunting an apology for asking such a thing. He would keep himself under control for the mission, but whenever a human being found themselves so far underground, the nerves began to fray. It was inevitable, no matter how good the training.

When the elevator groaned to a halt and the doors slid open, it was not relief that filled the cowboy, but a sick, cool sense of dread. It crept up his spine to gain a stranglehold on his hindbrain, the animal part of him--the part that wanted to run. This place was ancient, just like that hole in Mongolia. It reeked of fear, of bleeding, infectious terror. Gabe had dragged him out of  _ that _ one and put him  _ in _ this one. Funny how life went that way.

_ Focus, man. You’re on  _ his _ side. Ain’t nothin’ gunna happen to ya _ , he repeated to himself, over and over, a mental mantra of safety.  _ Genji won’t let ‘em hurt ya. Genji won’t let ‘em hurt ya _ . 

The closer the pair got to the interrogation rooms, the more the young Shimada began to mutter internally, repeating his  _ own  _ mantra. _ You can do this, Genji. This is what Hanzo and Father wanted of you, _ he told himself. He prayed his anxiety wasn’t so obvious to Jesse--or at the very least, his men. The cowboy had a good read on him, but was both courteous and being paid handsomely to protect him. His men were… well, they were  _ Hanzo’s  _ men, in truth. Genji trusted them with his life, but not his secrets, especially not  _ this _ one. 

“You’re okay, Sugar,” came McCree’s soft reassurance from behind Genji. The cowboy laid a hand on the small of his charge’s back, as if to draw strength from him and offer some of his own, despite the cold sweat that had broken out all over. He forced the fear down, put it aside for later, as he’d been taught. For now, he had to focus on taking in every single detail. Reyes would be expecting his report and he was already late. 

His bodyguard’s reassurance was doing  _ something _ to make him feel better. Genji did himself a favor and took a deep breath, compounding relief, if he could manage it. All he needed was to pop in the room, get a picture, ask some questions, and get out.  _ Easy peasy. _ With that, Hanzo would hopefully be satisfied until he got home...  _ hopefully _ . 

The room they sought was at the end of another corridor. The ceiling was low, the lighting, inadequate. McCree recognized all the tactics, each feature of this dismal place designed to crush a man’s spirit. He swallowed thickly, staying close behind Genji, resisting the urge to lay a hand on him any more than necessary--or worse, grab the young Shimada’s hand and hold on for dear life. Lack of vision in one eye did nothing to assist the cowboy’s crawling flesh, racing heartbeat and sweaty palm. 

Before reaching the door, Genji readied his phone. Any amount of time he could save now would be just a few seconds less in there, and he sure as hell did not want to be in any form of torture chamber longer than he had to be. 

Presently, master and guard reached the end of the corridor and Genji knocked twice on the heavy door, awaiting a response from his men on the other side, whilst praying things weren’t too ugly in there. It wasn’t the blood or viscera, so much as the agony and the knowledge that it was all for him, for his clan and his honor. It was sickening.

A sliding panel opened at the center of the door. The portal was roughly eye level and a sharp pair of them peered out and assessed the new arrivals. 

“Master Shimada,” the voice was muffled, echoing a little against the metal of the door. “We were… not expecting you.”

He seemed to be speaking english for McCree’s benefit, quick eyes having spotted the foreigner immediately. The cowboy appreciated this as his brain was too fevered with unbidden fear to properly decode quickly spoken Japanese. Jesse alluded to none of this, however, squaring his shoulders behind Genji, a solid wall of Westerner, frightening the shadows back with his intimidating size.

“I would like to meet our unwelcome guest,” Genji insisted, avoiding prolonged eye contact with the man on the other side of the door. He didn’t  _ want _ to, but he needed to get in there to take the pictures. McCree wondered if Genji hadn’t considered asking one of his men to do it for him. Then he recalled his own ever-so-wise advice about taking the bull by the horns, or thereabouts.  _ Smooth _ , he groaned internally.  _ How ‘bout next time ya keep yer dang yap shut? _

Before he could do anything, however, the Shimada guard slid the view port shut and began unlocking the door. Clearly, there were several mechanisms, as the process took a solid ten seconds and a grunt that almost managed to make McCree smile.  _ Almost _ .

Genji also waited patiently for the door to open, one hand on his hip in a posture of relaxation, as if this sort of thing was par for the course. If he mimed it long enough, perhaps his treacherous guts would obey. 

They did not and the wait was agonizing, but he managed to endure it without a verbal complaint, just as Hanzo would have wanted. Genji then took a deep breath and do the best impression of Hanzo’s business face he could manage as the door groaned open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry this took such a long, long time. Sometimes the editing process comes easily and the muses smile down on us--this was NOT one of those times.


	8. prelude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One enemy remains alive and it is from him they must take their answers. This part of Yakuza life has never appealed to Genji, but in his brother's absence, he must act. How much stress can he take before he snaps?

The space was dark, but for blinding spotlights illuminating the prisoner, who was blindfolded and tied to a chair. Clearly, the night had not treated him as well as it had Genji. 

_ Black and blue would be a kind way to describe this poor fella,  _ McCree thought to himself.  _ If he ain't cracked yet, he's in for a whole lot worse.  _

To his credit, Genji immediately got down to business. Approaching the man with his phone in hand, he first took pictures of the tattoos he could see, bruised or otherwise.  _ This _ information was important. The set of his jaw spoke volumes as he moved about the prisoner. Returning to stand before him with some air of fierce authority, the younger Shimada scion spoke: 

“I see my men have treated you well?”

Well, they were not  _ his _ men, but they were his  _ family’s _ … Well… Hanzo’s. The phrase served its purpose, spoken in english for McCree’s benefit. He needed his bodyguard to know that he was going to tough this out, take charge, make Hanzo proud, not crawl into bed and cry, wishing someone else would take over.

The Yamaguchi assassin either chose not to speak, or could not. His jaw seemed to be hanging at a funny angle, so very likely it was the latter. It did not stop one of the Shimada guards from cuffing the back of the man’s head. 

“ _ Anata wa ie no shujin ga anata ni shitsumon o shita toki ni han'nō shimasu, _ ” snapped the guard.  _ You will respond when the master of the house asks you a question.  _ McCree grunted, halfway between Genji and the door. His gaze darted about, as best it could, once more marking all exits. He kept his hands clasped in front of him, to appear more in control and to hold back the shaking. The cold sweat that ran down his spine had not abated. He had known this place would have something of a dungeon, had assured his commander that he would be fine, that this mission was  _ made _ for him.  _ Best not screw it up now,  _ he chided. 

Peeking back at his bodyguard as he grunted, Genji didn’t pay Jesse much more heed than that quick glance; the cowboy  _ seemed  _ to be fine.  _ He _ had never felt at ease in this part of Shimada castle. It was old and gave him the absolute creeps, but for the time being, Genji had to act as though all of this was par for the course. He at least took some small measure of victory in the guard’s harsh address toward their prisoner. It was nice to be referred to as Master, of  _ anything _ , if he was being honest with himself. 

He wondered if Hanzo enjoyed this as well. But he didn’t dwell on it; he needed answers. Having collected the photos he needed, the “master” of the Shimada household returned his mobile device to his pocket, casually as he could manage. He looked the prisoner up and down, hardening his gaze as he’d seen his brother do a million and one times.

_ “Naze anata wa koko ni iru nodesu ka?” Why are you here? _ Asked the young  _ ninja _ , softly. He kept his voice measured, firm, but somehow gentle, as if he could be trusted to make all this go away once he got the answers he desired. McCree recognized that tone, knew it intimately. It might have been an imitation, but Genji was good at it. The ghost of a proud smile whispered at the edge of his lips, but he didn’t smile--not all the way. Only his attention on Genji kept Jesse in that horrid, dank place. He swallowed another slug of fear and adjusted his stance. His mind was threatening to transport him elsewhere and, unpleasant as the castle dungeon may have been, the memories were worse; at least here, he wasn’t the one in the chair. 

“ _ Anata wa inai hazudatta, _ ” the would-be assassin managed between wheezes and through an grisly, cocked jaw, breathing around the teeth he’d likely swallowed. Upon closer inspection, it was clear he’d been knocked about quite handily, covered in bruises and such, but also blood, little cuts here and there that had to be stinging with the sweat that poured from him profusely.  _ You weren’t supposed to be here. _

What could that have meant? Genji wasn’t supposed to be at Shimada castle? Or in Hanamura in general? McCree was beginning to put everything together, slowly. Genji had a habit of abstaining from his duties as Hanzo’s right hand. He was really more of a playboy, a party-attendee… a friendly, young, handsome face to be presented if his brother really needed it, but mostly absent. He preferred to satisfy himself on his own time and terms. 

The Yamaguchi intel was a bit behind, evidently. They hadn’t counted on Genji staying in the castle to entertain his bodyguard and they certainly had not anticipated the Dead-eye targeting system. One of the cowboy’s hands lifted to his blinded eye, touching around the socket tenderly. 

“ _ Shimada shiro de nani o shitaidesu ka?” What do you want with Shimada castle? _ Because if they weren’t there for  _ him, _ was it simply to welcome Hanzo to an empty house? What would the motivation be, if not for him. 

McCree listened to all this in silence. He had figured it was a coup attempt, with the aim of capturing and then ransoming Genji himself--but they’d been firing on him, indiscriminately. It wasn’t an assassination attempt, either. Jesse had a feeling that if it  _ had _ been, things would have gone a lot quieter. No, this was something else. A statement, perhaps?

_ No more talk, hm?  _ Well, there wasn’t much Genji could do with that response. Perhaps if he changed his tone…

“ _ Kotaete! _ ”  _ Answer! _ Genji barked, demanding as his brother might have done. He couldn’t call the head of the Shimada- _ gumi _ back without the appropriate answers _ ,  _ brother or not; he was  _ not _ about to disappoint Hanzo. That meant thinking like the man, and asking the questions Hanzo would have asked, had he been present. 

Something about the way Genji had snapped at the Yamaguchi attacker stirred in McCree's chest, making his heart pound a little harder. He'd been chilly with discomfort until the moment the young Shimada’s voice rang out in that dank dungeon, demanding his command be obeyed.  _ Easy,  _ he reminded himself again.  _ Focus on the mission. _

Still, the man refused to give them anything. McCree saw the fire of zeal and belief in one's cause and mission in the eyes of the Yamaguchi soldier. This fight was far from over. Gently, McCree reached out and tapped Genji on the shoulder, to garner his attention. To make the gesture seem official, he produced his mobile device from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, as if to indicate his charge had other engagements. The man would have to be worked over a whole lot longer before he gave them  _ anything _ substantial. 

When his bodyguard tapped at him, Genji’s head snapped to the side, to look at Jesse over his shoulder, perhaps giving away that he was a bit high strung, but he was quick to correct himself. Returning his attention to the prisoner, he spoke once more:

“ _ Sōda. Watashi wa atode modotte kimasu. _ ”  _ Right then. I will return later. _ Genji insisted. He gave the Shimada men in the room one more look and nod before turning to leave perhaps a bit too quickly, gesturing that Jesse follow. 

The cowboy was all too eager to extract himself from that miserable place. He followed Genji rather like an obedient hound, reassured that they would have the answers they sought before sundown. The Shimada information extraction specialists had some serious flint in their eyes. Yes, Jesse had no doubt in their abilities and counted himself fortunate he was not on the receiving end of their…. Techniques. 

“You got the photos,” he observed quietly as the lift began to take them back upward, into the clean air of Shimada castle proper. “Hanzo--err Shimada- _ sama _ will be pleased as punch.”

It was important that Jesse maintain the illusion of somewhat oblivious bliss to the elder Shimada’s ways and means. Genji would, by his estimation, open up more easily and much more quickly if McCree handled the situation with gentle ignorance. It would start with explanation and re-education and then turn to venting and unloading. Secrets were spilled that way and that was why Reyes had sent  _ him  _ in the first place. He wouldn't let his father down. 

Still, that dungeon had shaken him, badly. He was determined not to show it, of course, but McCree’s mind continued running over the scenario, start to finish, from the smell and light of the place, to the cloying feel of it. The violence he understood was even now being perpetrated there was only the half of it. The other… 

_ Ain’t got time t’think o’ that now, _ he scolded himself. He’d been warned not to get lost in his past, any part of it, on a mission. Reyes taught him well: Undercover, your past was whatever had been invented for you, nothing more, nothing less. You would know that in detail until the mission was over. Then, you could worry and gripe and regret. But for now, that man was dead, or had never existed. This Jesse McCree was hired muscle. 

Genji sighed heavily, chewing his lower lip and keeping his eyes down. Shoving shaking hands deep into his pockets, he denied his fear even to himself, though the anxiety was threatening to take hold again. His heart was pounding. The one Sojiro Shimada dubbed “Sparrow” had surprised himself, lasting so long down there, even though it had only been a few minutes. He remembered the first time their late father had shown him the dungeons. The memory shot a chilly shiver up his spine. He’d had nightmares for weeks thereafter. At the time, there hadn’t even been a “tenant” down there, just empty rooms, clean, but ominous. Even at the tender age of eight, Genji understood that bad things happened in those rooms. 

“To bad people,” his father had reassured him at the time. Unbeknownst to Genji, Sojiro absolutely would not have spared his elder son in such a way, no. He would have said something along the lines of “to our enemies”, sparing the drivel that was good versus evil. There was only power and while Hanzo would be taught to grasp this, and quickly (on pain of violence), the younger dragon would be spared. 

Perhaps this was what had driven the wedge between them, or what had started it anyway. The rigors of running both a legitimate business empire, plus handling an underworld syndicate of assassins tore Hanzo from Hanamura more often than not and when he  _ was _ home, it was perhaps only physically. Always, the man was planning his next move. Genji thought perhaps he should be that way, too, but had never mustered the… what was it? What was he missing that Hanzo seemed to have in spades?  _ Steel, _ he thought, miserably.  _ He has a soul of steel and mine is… silk. _

“I hope so,” Genji admitted softly, genuinely wanting this to go smoothly (as much as something like this  _ could _ ). He would wait until later to send Hanzo anything, though. The terror of what Hanzo’s response might be drove Genji to hide such interactions as thoroughly as he could. This wasn’t something to do in front of Jesse, especially not while he was a mess like  _ this.  _ Why he felt the need to prove his strength to Hanzo made all the sense in the world, but to his bodyguard? That was beyond him. 

“You did what he asked,” Jesse reminded his charge, “an’ then some, if y’want my opinion.”

They’d gone into the figurative belly of the beast for the benefit of Genji’s peerless, cranky, forceful elder brother. If that wasn’t loyalty and duty to family, Jesse didn’t know  _ what _ was. He could relate, though his whole life hadn’t been so dedicated. A quiet childhood launched itself forcefully into tumultuous teen years and  _ those _ had catapulted him into the leadership of a gun-running band of outlaws. One thing led to another and now he found himself here, riding up a quiet elevator with the scion of a  _ yakuza  _ clan.  _ I oughtta write a book _ , he mused silently, feeling more and more at ease as the elevator rose.

The longer they stood in that tiny box, however, the more claustrophobic Genji felt, his need to escape growing like some rough beast, slouching toward his amygdala and threatening to settle there, claws dug in. Though it was against his wishes, he knew they would have to return in a few hours, to collect his requested answers. Perhaps he would have pulled himself together by then, but for now, Genji was on the brink of breaking, his heartbeat hammering in his throat. The young  _ ninja  _ was hapless, trapped in this state of panic with no end in sight. What he wanted more than anything was to escape, but how could he, when any and all activity outside Shimada castle was out of the question. Who knew what kind of force the Yamaguchi clan had mustered? 

“Let's get you back to your room,” Jesse suggested, sensing and observing Genji's unease. “A cup of tea an’ a book’ll take yer mind off this whole, messy business.” 

He didn't want to seem too forward, offering such comforts to his employer, but Genji was messed up and it would have been cruel to pretend he didn't notice. And anyway, that was part of his job. He wasn’t just a solid wall of muscle for Genji to hide behind. If he had to be with the man 24/7, he had to read and respond to his charge’s moods and Genji was an open book. The gentler he was with Genji during times like these, the more willing the younger man would be to opening up when things became rougher. 

As much as Genji didn’t want his mental  state to be obvious (oh, how he wanted to be just like Hanzo, a winter storm wrapped in calm, like the eye of an icy hurricane), it relieved him to know Jesse had taken notice. He really  _ did _ need to relieve the built-up tension in his small frame. Such stress couldn't have been good for his complexion, either. He thought about this almost offhandedly and had to fight hysterical laughter.A rival  _ yakuza _ clan had broken in and shot up his home, killing many guards, wounding more and nearly murdering  _ him—you weren’t supposed to be here _ , the phrase rang out in his head once more; what did it mean?—but all his mind could focus on (aside from terror) was his face, his looks.  _ How vain,  _ Genji could almost hear his brother's contemptuous voice. Though it burned him to do so, however, he could not deny his overwrought mind. Genji conceded defeat and nodded slowly. It was important for a leader, especially an  _ oyabun  _ (for that was the position in which he now found himself) to know his limits. Of  _ this _ perhaps, Hanzo may have approved. 

The first elevator relinquished its claustrophobic grasp upon the pair of them, spitting the cowboy and his employer out into the main floor of Shimada castle proper. From there, Genji made a beeline for the second lift which would return them to the suite of rooms he shared with his venerable, currently absent, brother. 

“Can’t wait to get outta this suit,” McCree commented offhandedly. Any and all remaining tension drained from his back and shoulders immediately upon stepping into the bright, construction-filled lobby of the castle tower. Evidently, the crew had moved in whilst he and Genji were downstairs. They worked quickly, too. The cowboy was impressed. 

“I only wear what is comfortable,” Genji replied. He wasn’t too eager to get out of his casual clothing. The young Shimada spared Jesse a look, eyes lingering on the suit.  _ Well,  _ he thought,  _ unless someone wants to take it off me. _ This rumination made him raise a brow as he assessed McCree, if only for a moment. Then his eyes returned to their goal, the elevator ahead. “But I can help you take that off if you like.” 

The offer was innocent enough in its tone, but McCree had caught the way Genji's eyes had just run themselves over his body. The green-haired delinquent (and temporary  _ oyabun _ , for whatever that was worth) evidently wanted more of what Jesse had given him last night. Very likely, it would be justified under the guise of relieving the stress of command and that was just fine with McCree. An illicit affair with his bodyguard was just the thing Genji Shimada needed and, coincidentally, also what Jesse needed to do  _ his  _ job. It would create a bond of secrecy and confidence between them, catapulting the Blackwatch agent directly into the innermost circle of the Shimada- _ gumi _ .

“That an offer, Sugar?”

“Are you going to take it?” Genji asked as his whispering steps passed the threshold of the private lift. A cup of tea and a book would have relieved his stress, of course, but after getting a feel for what his bodyguard was packing between those endless legs of his, the young Shimada knew he would much rather relieve stress with  _ him _ …  _ then _ perhaps have a cup of tea. He fantasized, momentarily, of Jesse, asleep in his bed (how scandalous!), back facing Genji, breath coming in deep, long pulls, thick, corded muscles loose beneath tanned, freckle-dappled flesh. He envisioned himself reading, drinking tea, and reaching over to caress those muscles. It was a much softer fantasy than his usual and it jarred him, if only for a moment. 

Jesse followed, giving no verbal response and remaining composed. The cowboy was the very portrait of stoic, hired muscle, right up until the doors closed behind him. As soon as they were alone, McCree made his move, wrapping his flesh hand around the back of Genji's head and pressing their mouths together. That was his way of saying yes. Was it forward? Absolutely. Was it inappropriate? Definitely. Was it appreciated?

Genji grinned into the kiss, pressing in close and wrapping an arm around McCree, laying his hand just above the cowboy’s ass. The other one came up to take the man’s hat, tugging it easily off and tossing it aside.

“Have mercy, sweetheart,” Jesse begged, nearly grabbing for it as it fell. Genji was entwined with him, however, forcing him to keep his hands precisely where they were, groping, grabbing and prowling to find bits of tense muscle and eventually the soft, semi-taut cheeks of the young Shimada’s rear-end. These, he squeezed appreciatively. 

“ _Matemasen?_ ” _Can’t wait?_ Genji purred. The way Jesse was grabbing and groping at him gave his every intention away deliciously. “ _Erebētā wa sore ijō hayaku wa arimasen._ ” _The_ _elevator only goes so fast._ But soon they would be on the top floor, and then they could have all the fun they wanted. Suddenly, the stress was left completely behind and Genji's thoughts were consumed by the towering cowboy. _Yes_ , he thought, _much better than tea and a book._

But Genji was the “have your cake and eat it too” sort of man. He was eager to see what he could get out of Jesse McCree, aside from a good, hard ride. There was plenty to anticipate, of course, but Genji prided himself on being a bold lover. He only hoped his bodyguard could match his voracious appetite, because that was what it would take to pull his mind away from the man being mutilated so far below them. 

“Oh, Sugar, what I'm gunna do to you…” The throaty growl was animalistic, holding promises of total fulfillment regarding every untamed thought Genji had ever entertained and then some. This was a role to be played and McCree was  _ good _ at it. He knew exactly the words a man like Genji needed to hear. 

The cowboy’s voice sent a chill down Genji’s spine, gave him goosebumps, made his face flush. The young Shimada was  _ definitely _ ready for this. He  _ knew _ Jesse was going to be fun. 

“Right then, to my room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are so sorry for the massive delay. We realize this is a particularly short chapter, but we're hoping the content and quality of the next one will make up for it. Thank you so much for your patience with us on this highly entertaining journey. We hope you're enjoying reading it as much as we like writing it. 
> 
> PS. We are spending a week together IRL, so our apologies if we do not respond to comments, etc, as quickly as usual. We love you guys!


	9. foci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, McCree and Genji are alone, really and truly alone and they've got some serious tension to relieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW ahead!

 

As the elevator door opened, Genji retrieved the cowboy’s hat from the floor, plopping the thing on his head once more and meandering toward his room. Jesse watched him go, leaning against the wall just outside the doorway, partially to catch his breath and, well, he couldn’t deny the view.

“Whatever you say, Sug’,” he rumbled, pushing off and sauntering after Genji. 

As the young dragon walked, he produced his phone from one pocket, almost casually, deciding to try and kill two birds with one stone. He texted the requested photos to Hanzo. That way, he wouldn’t have to worry about doing this later. Jesse watched those nimble fingers fly across his phone’s keyboard, guessing at Genji's purpose. 

“He like ‘em?” McCree asked after a few moments, when he was sure the photos had sent. Genji had slowed to type out a message and the cowboy was looming over his shoulder presently. 

“The things my brother likes are… few,” Genji muttered, putting his phone away to then grab Jesse by the tie, taking advantage of the fact that the man was partially leaning to look over his shoulder. With this, the young Shimada then continued to his room, McCree in tow. The cowboy was more than happy to follow along like some hound, practically salivating at the thought of the  _ ninja  _ beneath him. 

“Picky sonuvabitch, ain't he?” McCree supplied as they passed the threshold of Genji's room. The lights dimmed and the window wall’s massive curtains whirred into place at the touch of a button Jesse hadn’t even seen. 

“You are lucky you were hired to protect the Shimada brother who knows how to have  _ fun, _ ” was all Genji had to say about his elder sibling. Releasing Jesse to shut his door, Genji went straight for his bed. Speaking of fun, it was about time they  _ had _ some. “Come.”

“As you command, Sugar,” the cowboy rumbled, loosening and then tossing aside his tie. It was liberating to be free of the noose of responsibility, though he was acutely aware that his job would not suspend itself for an afternoon of wanton pleasure. Boy, but he wished it would… 

Genji looked so good, lying there on the bed, on his side, watching McCree through half-lidded eyes. His whole body beckoned, the tension draining quickly away at the prospect of doing something in his comfort zone. Jesse was pleased he’d be the one to fill that space.

Genji stripped the man with his eyes, as he recalled just what he had allowed himself to see when he came back up to a  _ very _ naked Jesse not long ago. 

“ _ Tsudzukeru. _ ”  _ Go on. _ Genji insisted, matching with the appropriate gesture to the cowboy with his hand. Jesse swallowed hard, processing very slowly. Genji wanted a tease, evidently. And why shouldn't the cowboy give his charge what he wanted? Slowly, he began to toy with his top buttons. 

It was difficult to simply sit and watch, as Genji wanted him  _ now, _ but he wouldn’t rush the bodyguard. After all, this would be their first time doing such a thing together, and he had already decided that Jesse would not just be another one night stand. So to try to kill some anticipation, Genji dug his phone back out, and took a photo of the stripping, and  _ strapping _ cowboy. 

McCree bit his lip for the photo, cocking his head demurely. He was feeling less and less like this was solely for the mission and more as though he was just having a good time with a friend… or a lover.  _ Shake it off,  _ he chided.  _ All for the inside info. That's what I'm doin’. _

“ _ Totemo hansamu... _ ”  _ So handsome.. _ Genji purred, putting his phone away to push himself up. He slipped languidly off the bed and sauntered toward McCree, reaching out to begin assisting him. Undoing buttons calmly as he could, despite how excited he was to get started, Genji forced his focus on the little, plastic, obstacles. Jesse’s hands dropped to his sides as the young Shimada worked, chewing his lower lip and watching. 

“Ya didn’t need’a help,” the cowboy rumbled, one corner of his mouth curling upward. Genji looked up at him from under his lashes and continued his work. As he reached the button beneath McCree’s pectorals, Jesse’s hands rose and covered Genji’s. “You sure about this?”

“Of  _ course _ I’m sure. Are  _ you _ ?” He didn’t want to press Jesse to do anything he didn’t want to, of course. The cowboy’s question felt sudden, out of place, nervous. It set Genji on edge, worried he’d crossed a line with the tall fellow. As if to assuage that very fear, Jesse leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of the young dragon’s mouth. 

“I’m a man who knows what he wants,” purred McCree. “I jus’ wanted to make sure I’m what  _ you _ want… ‘cause I don’t play well with others.”

The declaration was throaty, deep and rumbling up from the pit of the cowboy’s stomach. It slid out of his mouth and bridged the gap to Genji’s eardrums, rattling him to his core with the sheer possessive force of it. Genji had encountered men who fancied themselves alphas; they were all show, peacocking and worthless. McCree was the real deal. He could feel it. 

In fact, it put a tint of red on pale cheeks and made the young man avert his eyes. He actually took a second to  _ think  _ about this. If he was going to take things this far, he couldn’t run around bedding others anymore. But… for  _ Jesse, _ who would likely stay a while. This  _ was  _ worth it. 

“You are  _ everything _ I want,” Genji finally replied, sheepishly. Now it was McCree’s turn to blush. No one had ever said such things to him, certainly not in this context, and  _ definitely _ not whilst sober. The  _ ninja _ was drawing him in with those eyes, those words, those deft fingers. His shirt fell off as Genji’s hands continued their work, letting the shirt drop and reaching up to grasp at firm pectorals as if they were a lady’s breasts. The cowboy couldn’t help himself as he leaned down for another kiss.

“Then saddle up, Sugar,” he murmured into it. 

Genji wasn’t expecting a kiss when he got it, he was still rather stuck on the words that had just come out of his mouth. Did he  _ really _ feel this way for his bodyguard? Was such a thing okay? Could such a thing even last?  _ Of course not, _ he thought,  _ but I can play this game while he’s here.  _ Before he could contemplate any further, the kiss melted him.

Jesse wrapped one thick arm around Genji’s back, keeping him close, their heated bodies pressed flush against each other. If his charge couldn’t feel his erection pressing forth against his belly before, he sure could now. McCree rolled his hips forward, forcing Genji gently back, stirring friction between them. 

The young dragon could definitely feel what was going on, and it made him want more. Only Jesse’s pants remained, which reminded the  _ ninja _ that he was still wearing the cowboy’s hat. So to make it easier to strip himself, he removed it, tossing it gently onto the bed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how attached McCree was to his hat.  _ Any good cowboy  _ would _ be _ . 

“Shall we begin?” Genji asked softly, peeking up at his bodyguard past thick eyelashes, and surprisingly with much more confidence than he had earlier this morning. His face was the very picture of cherubic innocence, but the glint in his eyes was almost predatory, definitely hungry and totally wanton. This was his natural environment, after all. Clubs, restaurants and bedrooms were his favorite places to be. Luckily for him, Jesse seemed to be at ease with all those things, too.

“Sugar, I began the moment I laid eyes on you,” purred the cowboy, pressing yet another kiss to the corner of Genji’s mouth. The kisses were sweet, like nothing the cowboy had ever felt. They were electricity and warmth and candy all rolled into one.

“You know, for a man who killed six in one go, I would expect you to be more accurate.” Genji sighed innocently, shaking his head. Though he didn't mind these kisses, he hoped they wouldn’t be the  _ only _ kisses he would get from the cowboy.

“Jus’ teasin’ ya,” promised Jesse, his voice a gravelly baritone, sending chills down Genji's spine. The  _ ninja _ began to melt in his arms, pliant and supple, incredibly flexible (though this was just a guess) and eager.  _ Bullseye. _

Flashing a wicked grin, Genji presently removed himself from the cowboy’s arms. He stepped back just far enough to pull his shirt up and over his head. As the fabric brushed his pert, aching nipples, the  _ ninja _ actually groaned a little, wishing it was McCree’s fingers on them, or his lips; it didn’t much matter which.  

For his part, Jesse appraised Genji's body with rapt attention and approval. He wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees before the man and nibble at his hip bones, his thighs, anywhere he could reach. He resisted, however, resting a thumb over the waistband of his pants, tempting Genji.  

Tossing his shirt to the growing pile and glad to be rid of it, Genji brought his hands down, going straight for palming at the cowboy through dress pants, half to tease, half to get a better feel for what was in store. By the feel, Jesse’s “store” was absolutely bountiful. 

McCree groaned, pushing into the grip. Genji’s hand was hot, purposeful, searching. The cowboy’s flesh arm wrapped around the short fellow’s shoulders and pulled him close, purring a warning into his ear. 

“Careful what yer doin’ down there, sweetheart.”

Genji turned his head just enough to ghost his lips on Jesse throat and despite the cowboy’s warning, he didn’t stop. Quite the opposite, actually. Feeling his bodyguard’s size only made the man more eager (if that were even possible). 

“Why? I could do this for hours,  _ Sugar _ ,” Genji purred, repeating the words the cowboy had said to him just this morning. Perhaps it would be fun to play with him a bit before actually getting anything too heavy started. This would give him—both of them, really—time to assess the other and themselves and make damn sure they wanted this. Where the young Shimada had been content to bed any sweet, sensitive thing that came his way, now he was suddenly hesitant, intent on protecting McCree’s… honor? Surely a man like this had no such qualms. Surely  _ he  _ had moved past such things, as well. This was all a game, was it not? It was tit for tat.  _ No,  _ he reminded himself.  _ It’s not. He wants to  _ own _ me. _ The real question was, would Genji  _ let _ him? Something about the whole situation demanded his undivided attention and a serious commitment. McCree was his bodyguard, after all; he would  _ know _ if Genji slept around. A wicked thought occurred to him then… 

What if he did it anyway? Would Jesse punish him? Another chill raced down his spine and settled as heat, low in his gut. He was hard, too, of course, but the thought of “punishment” from the cowboy was ever so titillating. 

Jesse’s heart was racing as Genji’s hands roamed over him and his lips brushed along his throat. His pulse thundered in his veins and his head swam a little. Lack of perspective could have been throwing off his sense of depth, thus causing some sort of vertigo, but Jesse doubted it. He was high on the essence of the man in his arms. He swallowed hard.  _ Take it easy. _

Genji was a little too eager to simply paw at his cowboy like that for hours, however. He was painfully hard himself and teasing like this just wouldn’t do the trick, though it served its purpose. Stopping himself in a feat of immense willpower, Genji brought both hands down, and began fiddling with Jesse’s belt. The buckle thrilled him as he ran his forefinger over the shiny surface.

“Ya like that, sweetheart?” Jesse rumbled, pleased as punch at the attention being paid to his custom B.A.M.F. buckle—a gift from his commanding officer, after the mission that took his arm. Reyes insisted he take it as a commendation, since Blackwatch didn’t give out medals. He remembered thanking his father and donning the thing, promising never to take it off. It had earned him an eyeroll, but Jesse could have sworn Reyes was blushing.

Genji raised a brow when Jesse asked him a question, and pulled his head away to look at what he was doing. Only then did he actually  _ look _ at the buckle in his hands. The huge golden thing actually had an acronym on it.  _ BAMF. Well, he lives up to it,  _ the young Shimada thought with a grin.    
“I expected nothing less of a  _ cowboy. _ ” He said aloud as he finished uncoupling the belt and went on to attack the fastener of his bodyguard’s pants. He left the question of whether or not his statement had been a compliment up in the air, ambiguous.

“Easy,” warned McCree once more. “Only if yer sure… an’ we can stop anytime.”

What in the world was this hesitance? This was so easy for someone like him, or it should have been. It  _ was _ in the past. Why did he keep giving Genji escape routes?  _ Maybe I’m givin’ ‘em to myself… but why? _

When Jesse spoke up again, Genji  _ had _ the cowboy’s pants undone, but he took his hands off him. Was  _ he _ sure? The way Jesse was asking, the  _ ninja _ had his doubts.

“Are  _ you _ sure? I’ve already told you that I want this.” But, hey. If the cowboy  _ didn’t _ want this, Genji wouldn’t force it. So raising his hands in surrender, Genji backed up to sit on the edge of the bed, crossing his arms to McCree. “And I thought  _ you _ said you were a man who knew what he wanted.”

“I-I am,” McCree stuttered out, embarrassed as all hell at the catch in his voice. He  _ was _ , dammit. He knew exactly what he wanted and that someone was settled—no, beckoning—right in front of him. The cowboy took a deep breath and moved forward, tossing his trepidation out like old bathwater, masking confidence and praying it would turn inward. Everything inside him screamed that he was on the edge of some precipice he couldn’t see, that though this was technically part of his mission, crossing this line with  _ this  _ man was suicide. 

He dropped to his knees before Genji and wrapped thick arms about the slender fellow’s midsection, burying his face in Genji’s chest, inhaling his scent. The gesture was tender, less possessive now and more… romantic? Whence had it come? 

Raising a brow yet again, the young  _ ninja _ laid an arm on the cowboy’s shoulder, while his other hand rested on the back of Jesse’s head. He nestled his face in Jesse’s hair, matching him scent for scent. If the cowboy was so sure, he wondered why they hadn’t started yet, but then again this was coming from a man much more accustomed to one night stands and quickies. He wasn’t sure  _ what _ Jesse was used to before coming here. Perhaps asking now was in bad form, but he couldn’t help himself. 

“Have you been with anyone recently, Jesse?” Genji ventured gently, giving the man an out if the answer was something entirely else, something he did not expect at all—the all-consuming “v-word.”

“Not since… I was a kid,” which wasn’t a  _ complete  _ lie on the cowboy’s part. His last serious partner had died in Blackwatch’s raid on Deadlock. He supposed he’d been upset about that for a long time, until his newfound family educated him about the scumbag’s motives.  _ I won’t be used again, _ he fumed internally, shaking the memory off with a deep breath of Genji’s unique scent. It was downright cheerful, despite the poor fellow’s earlier anxiety. Jesse could tell with every fiber of his being that Genji wanted to be here, in this room, with him. That should have been enough for the cowboy, but it had the opposite effect. It was too much. That edge loomed just out of reach where one misstep would send the cowboy careening into it with no hope of escape.  

For his part, Genji was having a tough time believing this broad, gorgeous specimen hadn’t been with multiple partners  _ recently _ , much less in literal years! That did explain things. The hesitance and the need for multiple reassurances were all starting to add up. It wasn’t something someone could fake, not a feeling like that—it wasn’t an emotion someone just made up to garner sympathy, either. There was real pain in McCree’s tone. Though Genji hadn’t actually  _ voiced _ his desire to pick up the pace, he knew his posture indicated it and he felt bad for trying to rush it now that Jesse had come clean. So he decided they would take this slow. Beginning to play with a lock of the cowboy’s hair in his fingers, Genji pressed his lips to the top of Jesse’s head. 

“As I said before, you’re everything I want,” insisted the  _ ninja _ gently, speaking into McCree’s thick hair. Though he had no idea what had happened between Jesse and whoever had come before him, the young Shimada felt that some strong, verbal reassurance was in order. Hopefully that would raise his partner’s spirits.  _ Partner?  _ He thought to himself, hesitating on the word.  _ What in the world will Hanzo think? _

Slowly, Jesse lifted his head to meet Genji’s gaze in the dimness of the young man’s room. Those eyes were all burning honesty, a deep ember that could not be quenched. McCree admired such integrity and was utterly surprised to see such a thing in the soul of a  _ yakuza _ family scion. He’d not had the opportunity to gaze deeply into his employer’s eyes and very much doubted Hanzo would show the same passion. Only part of him regretted telling the half-truth, spun by his false backstory, to Genji. It was simply one of the hazards of the job, something of which he had to remind himself, even now.  _ This is a job. Play the game; get the info. Don’t get attached,  _ came the all-powerful voice of Gabriel Reyes.  

“You can’t mean that,” Jesse responded doubtfully. “ _ Everything’s  _ a damn tall order, Sugar.”

“You’re only a head taller than me; I believe that will be enough,  _ cowboy _ ,” Genji scoffed, hoping a light-hearted joke might help ease the cowboy’s nerves. “I mean what I say.”

Besides, he wasn’t about to back out now that they had already gone so far. Jesse wanted  _ him _ to be sure and now he was making certain that very same, thoughtful cowboy knew exactly where stood, or sat, for the moment. 

“That’s mighty kind o’ you, Genji,” said McCree with a chuckle at the humor. There was something about how his charge could pull a joke out of a potentially terrifying situation that lightened the burden of… well, everything. His laughter even rang in Jesse’s ears, a friendly sort of chiming tone, like perfectly-tuned bells. McCree swallowed hard. He was going to have to go for it, no more hiding or playing coy.  _ Is this… for the mission anymore? _ He thought briefly, before tilting his chin upward and capturing those smiling lips with his.

How long had it been since he’s heard his  _ name _ come out of the cowboy’s mouth? It was nice to hear Jesse call him so, and it made him wish the cowboy would say it more, though right now his mouth was much too busy to suggest such a thing. Instead, Genji didn’t speak, appreciating the silence their kiss created, bringing the hand that was simply resting on Jesse’s back, upward to cup the cowboy’s fuzzy cheek.

Genji’s fingers were calloused, worn from holding a blade and scarred from many sparring matches, practice battles and now, a real one, though McCree would rather not have remembered the chaos of Yamaguchi- _ gumi _ ’s invasion. No, he preferred to focus on the lovely creature settled on the bed above him. 

The kiss was warm and calm, slow, and everything else Genji could have wanted, nothing at all like every other kiss he’d received, which had all been satisfactorily hot and in the heat of the moment. They never lasted, however. The fire subsided as soon as everything was over. He felt certain the embers glowing to life would burn for a long time to come. It made him completely forget about the fact that this man was simply his bodyguard. Perhaps the game was beginning to play Genji, as well.

Whatever this was turning into, it had gone beyond McCree’s mission parameters. He could almost hear Reyes’s cross, disappointed tone, chiding him for developing actual feelings for the man he was supposed to be  _ using _ . The very thought of fulfilling that mission and pumping Genji for information was distasteful all of a sudden. McCree shook it off and leaned into him, rolling his body a little and envisioned pumping him for something else entirely.  _ It’s just for now. Just a step in the mission. I’ll be fine. _

He wasn’t falling for Genji. It was hormones. It was instinct and the adrenaline from the invasion. It was the battle they’d weathered together, and whatever was to come. Could they be friends? Perhaps. Lovers? On occasion. But this was nothing more than that. McCree decided so then and there, because it was outside his mission parameters to fall in love with his employer’s brother. It simply would not be. Genji would be a good lay, of this he was certain, but once it was all over—McCree suddenly pictured Genji's face twisting into a mask of betrayed rage, running a sword through the cowboy's gut, with Hanzo standing nearby, finally  _ finally _ smiling with the approval Genji so craved. Suddenly, with that horrific tableau in the back of his mind, ever-hovering in the periphery now, McCree regained his confidence like a lightswitch flicking on.  _ He’s my boss an’ I’ve gotta give ‘im what he wants. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooohoo hoo y'all thought we'd give it to ya in one serving? {:<


End file.
